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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914740">A Fact Or A Weapon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven'>smalltrolven</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Curtain Fic, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sam Winchester Has Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:20:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Retirement finally comes for them, with one final head injury (Sam) and two knees finally gone kaput (Dean). The search and fight for a good ending consumes and transforms them both.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Fact Or A Weapon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2020 SPNJ2-bigbang. Thank you so much to my beta j2sockgrrrl, you always help so much. Many thanks to kaelysta for the wonderful art that accompanies my story.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p>Be sure to check out the beautiful <a href="https://kaelysta.livejournal.com/71822.html">art master post here</a></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>They’ve finally gone and done it for real this time. They’ve hung up their guns, shelved all their books, they’ve actually retired. It was pretty much inevitable after Sam’s probably one-hundredth head injury in a row. The doctor Dean dragged him to had said it was a miracle Sam was still walking and talking and even close to still being himself. To top it off, on that same hunt, both of Dean’s knees had been so battered he had barely been able to get Sam moved to the car when he was passed out. Sam badgered him into finally getting them looked at, and that doctor advised Dean that he definitely needed both knees to be replaced asap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’ve both managed to actually get old, and isn’t that the biggest freaking surprise of their lives?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Getting old all of a sudden means big, necessary and almost immediate changes for them. It means a real need to get moving on out of the bunker as fast as possible. They both agree that they definitely have to end up in a place without stairs and that is a whole lot closer to a hospital. And since they are going to be more vulnerable as they recuperate they have to be somewhere supernatural baddies don’t already know their address. It seems like the bunker has become Grand Central Station lately. It’s just a stop on the railway to and from Hell and points beyond.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once they’ve decided they are actually going to do this thing, to actually retire, Sam starts searching for different possibilities of where they should land. He knows their number one need is to end up some place near a hospital that will be good enough for taking care of both of their medical issues. And that is unfortunately not going to be in Kansas. Turns out there aren’t too many head-trauma specialists in Kansas. They’ve already been to the one recommended doctor a few weeks ago, and his suggestion was that they try out of state for second opinions, much less obtaining actual treatment for Sam’s condition.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Luckily, the maintenance finance package that their original flavor Charlie had set up for them way back when, includes some physical assets as well as just money. Through an intricate series of trusts and shell companies, the brothers have complete ownership of a series of modest homes all over the country that mostly are intended to be income producers. The cheap to maintain rentals that are good for guaranteed tax write-offs if they ever bother to start filing income taxes. They’ve never even used them as safe houses or anything like that, they’ve pretty much ignored them and just lived off the steady income they brought in. Their days of credit card fraud are long behind them thanks to all the money that their Charlie had initially siphoned off from Dick Roman.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They do have several big arguments about who will be getting their issues treated first. Dean really wants Sam to ‘go get his melon fixed,' he insists that he’ll be able to deal with the pain of getting himself around until Sam’s head is better. Sam admits that Dean has a point that knee replacements are not nearly as specialized or tricky as fixing Sam’s messed-up grapefruit. Sam counters with a compromise that Dean stop referring to his brain as various fruits, something both of them can agree on. Sam then paints a graphic picture of Dean not being able to physically assist Sam while he recuperates because of the dire state of his knees. He uses lots of examples from their fateful last hunt. Dean eventually relents and agrees that he will go ahead and get his worst knee done, if Sam would then get his head fixed, and then Dean would get his second knee replaced. That seemed like a good order of operations, it makes sense to both of them. Sam notes that comprising is hard, yet satisfyingly grown-up feeling as well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean leaves the details to Sam with vague assurances of not bitching about where they end up since it won’t be for forever. As Sam searches carefully through the list of the homes they own, he hopes that at least one of the properties might work as a temporary home for them. That would make it so much easier on him than having to find somewhere to rent. Sam knows that it will likely be a substantial amount of time until they’ve both recuperated from all the medical stuff and physical therapy. He still feels like he’ll be able to go back into the hunt after he’s let his brain recuperate. Hopefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Beginning to pack up for moving soon turns into Sam going through all his stuff, and unfortunately a lot of memories get triggered. That leads to new kinds of mental issues that he refuses to categorize as either visions or hallucinations because that’s really not what they feel like. He would know of course, as he’s had both. All of a sudden Sam will find himself back in his demon blood-addicted or even his soulless state, reliving one of the worst moments of his life, viscerally, with all five of his senses. It’s much more than just a memory, or even a sense memory, it feels too complete and all-consuming.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first time it happens he’s sorting through his weapons, and puts his hand on the handle of Ruby’s demon killing knife. Then the next thing he knows he’s no longer in his lonely room in their bunker, but re-experiencing the very first time he drank a demon’s blood at Ruby’s urging. He’s right back in that null state of pain and loss fresh from witnessing his brother be torn apart by hellhounds. He hears her wheedling voice, tastes her sulfurous breath against his lips, and wonders how did he ever get past that horrific taste? He comes back to himself clutching the knife in his hand, blood pooled in his palm.The sharp bite of the knife must have been the thing that brought him out of whatever the hell that just was.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next time it happens he’s sorting through his memory box, making sure the amulet is still tucked safely inside. He knows he would never forgive himself if he left it behind in the bunker, even if now it’s a bad reminder of its connection to Chuck. The little charm is still wrapped up in the same old blue bandana that he’d used to hide it in his duffel bag all those years ago. When he unwraps it, he’s slammed right back into the emptiness of his soulless self, debating whether to throw the amulet away along with the old duffel bag, or to maybe wear it just to fuck with Dean’s head. Everything is so clear, and not overlaid with emotional feeling, it’s almost cold, even though they’re in a motel room in Georgia in the summer. He looks at the amulet, and feels exactly nothing, only a calculation of what sort of reaction or response it might provoke in Dean. He comes back to himself with a death grip on the amulet, it’s pierced right into the skin of his palm and there’s a small amount of blood dripping into the memory box.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fortunately these incidents take place when he’s alone in his room, so Dean doesn’t know, and if he did, Sam’s not sure what would happen. Would Dean write him off or maybe just pack him off to an institution? Sam’s worst case scenario is that Dean just wouldn’t do anything, wouldn’t notice the difference or be concerned. Sam knows that’s messed up to think about Dean being that way. But his brother’s had a lot of trauma lately too, and he’s dealing with it in his usual 3-D way, distraction, drinking and denial.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s probably a good thing that he has those glitches or incidents during the lead up to their move, because it forces Sam to have to deal with reality. After each one happens, he researches even more about traumatic brain injury. He needs to find out if the treatments for TBI available these days would even begin to help in his case. All he knows for sure is that he isn’t holding onto reality quite as well as he needs to be able to in order to continue hunting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s entirely understandable of course, with the violent life he’s led, all the supernatural entities that have made use of his skull, the more than one hundred years of torture in the Cage, all of that mixed up together along with the mental stress of keeping the world’s biggest secret from the world’s biggest snoop. All of that combines to make him useless for an active hunting life, definitely for now, and maybe for good. His biggest worry is that once Dean gets better and has the full use of his knees back, he’ll figure out that Sam isn’t okay, and Dean will get out there on the hunting track again. Maybe on his own or with Cas or even Jack instead of Sam. And that would be okay, Sam just has to prepare himself for it ahead of time. He has to make it okay, has to give himself something else to do in the meantime.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s solution to this worry is to write a lot more than usual, obsessively really, in his journal, about all the things he wants to remember and accomplish and resolve before finally actually dying for real and for keeps. Writing it all down is his version of deep therapy. In his journals, he’s brutally honest with himself and it’s hard work. He regularly rereads what he’s written back at the beginning and marvels at how far he’s come. He has no one to share his progress with though.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One night Sam finds a picture of a snippet of a Margaret Atwood poem online somewhere:</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He looks up the rest of the poem in order to read the whole thing, it had been published in a poetry collection, ‘<em>Eating Fire’.</em> He thinks that the larger context of the quote makes the author’s point much more clearly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>A truth should exist,</em></p>
<p>
  <em>it should not be used</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>like this. If I love you</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>is that a fact or a weapon?</em>”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam copies it down into his current journal where he’s been gathering all his thoughts about moving. The quote makes him feel this deep resonance inside somewhere, like there’s an empty space that these words were made for. The question that the words raise for him is a very old one of course. One that many volumes of his journals have obliquely referred to over the years of trying and failing to figure himself out. He writes a few pages worth of musings about the quote, trying to nail down the feelings he has about it, why it’s resonating so deeply with him. But as usual, it’s hard to talk about the enormous thing you can’t allow yourself to really name out loud. He writes a few things about wishing he could discuss this with the person the quote is about for him, but how that person just wouldn’t understand in a million years, and he doesn’t want to risk the relationship that he has with this person just in case they don’t feel the same way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam leaves the journal out on his desk, with the pen in the spot where he’s left off writing. He hopes that he’ll be able to figure it out after sleeping on the whole idea.</p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Dean lets himself into Sam’s room to snag the Star Trek dvd set they’d been watching in there last night. He had just been eating pie in the kitchen when he remembers he wants to re-watch one of the episodes on his Dean-Cave big screen tv while Sam is out at the store with Jack. Sam usually keeps the current dvd’s out on his desk near the laptop they use as a screen, and there they are, right next to Sam’s journal. Dean struggles for mere moments before sitting himself down in Sam’s desk chair and beginning to read. He starts with the most recent entry, because they’ve been fighting off and on lately about the whole needing to retire and move thing, and maybe it’ll give him a clue about where Sam’s head is at on the subject.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s read Sam’s writing before, it’s a big-brother’s prerogative after all to be a snoopy asshole. But when he reads the Atwood quote and the whole discussion that follows it, where Sam is dancing around naming names, he gets this squirmy feeling in his gut. Sam has someone. Someone that this is all about, and it obviously isn’t about him, of course not. Sam isn’t…doesn’t think like that about him, he knows that. Of course he knows that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe this is why Sam is hemming and hawing about the moving thing so much. It might be about someone who lives around here, a Lebanon local. He knows that Sam’s pretty friendly with some of the clerks in the stores, could it be one of them? Maybe it’s someone online that Sam knows. He briefly considers hacking into Sam’s laptop, but stops himself when he hears noises from the down the hall. They’re back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He scoops up the dvd set and closes Sam’s journal, placing the pen back in what he hopes is the right spot. He gets the Star Trek episode going before Sam tracks him down, still thinking over what he’s just read in Sam’s journal. While Sam is talking to him about their shopping trip and dinner plans and who knows what else, Dean’s examining him. Does Sam look different, like someone in love, someone who’s pining away because he won’t let himself love the person he loves. Now all of a sudden the point of that poem,<em> fact or a weapon</em>, becomes clearer to him. Maybe he can help Sam by getting him to talk about the whole thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, who’d you see in town?” Dean asks in the middle of Sam’s discourse on what they just bought at the grocery store.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam stops and looks at him, a little confused at being interrupted about the three types of beer they’d bought. “No one special really, Larry at the gas station says hi, and Lila at the post office asked after your bad knees.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But no one else?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Dean, no one else. I mean, I can’t just go visit my secret lover when I have Jack with me, what kind of quasi-parent do you think I am?” Sam asks with a laugh, he rolls his eyes and leaves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean sits back in his recliner, watching as Spock and Kirk do their will-they won’t-they dance and thinks too much about little brothers and secret lovers and quasi-parents.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>“Has Dean seemed strange to you lately?” Sam asks, handing Jack the colander of rinsed-off fresh snap peas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack takes the pea pods and starts tearing off the ends of each one methodically and precisely, one by one. Sam can tell he’s thinking so he waits for the answer. Jack finally looks up at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean has been upset because of the fights you’ve been having lately. The ones about the moving issue, but nothing else that I’ve noticed. Why do you ask?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was just quizzing me about who I’d seen or talked to in town. And it was just weird, it’s not a thing he usually does—like ever,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe he’s worried you have a reason to want to stay here in Lebanon instead of moving somewhere else to retire,” Jack suggests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why would he think that? He knows I don’t really have any friends here, just acquaintances. Just like him,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know this will sound naive or silly coming from me, but maybe you should try just asking him,” Jack suggests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam doesn’t answer, just kind of sinks into himself trying to picture what would happen, how such a conversation would go with Dean. He decides it wouldn’t be worth the risk and maybe he doesn’t really want to know.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cas, can you hand me the 3/8” drive socket?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this the tool for the spark plugs to be changed?” Cas asks, searching the workbench.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, that’s what I’m trying to get done today, if my knees cooperate that is. Don’t tell Sam I said that,” Dean says, sticking his head back under Baby’s hood and leaning on her fender for support.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will do as you ask, Dean, but only if you will at some point tell him yourself,” Cas says, handing him the requested tool.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean straightens up, and takes the drive socket, he stares at it for a long moment, ignoring the crack about his bad knees. “Hey, I have to ask you something, about Sam. Have you noticed him having a new friend or acquaintance lately, maybe one in town or elsewhere?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have not noticed any new attachments. Sam, and you for that matter, are both very self-contained,” Cas observes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you hear him talking about someone new, in like a friendly sort of way, can you tell me?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas looks at him for longer than would usually be necessary. “Dean, are you jealous of your brother possibly having a friend beside you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No…nah, that’s not it, I’m just looking out for him. Something I read, made me think of it.” Dean doesn’t elaborate and tell Cas he’s been doing something so disrespectful as reading his brother’s journal. Cas would never understand anyway. Even though he was dead-on about Dean’s jealousy issues.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As far as I know, Sam is focused on convincing you of the need to move to resolve your medical issues, not on forming new friendships,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know he is, believe me I know, he’s on me about it all the time. It’s just…I don’t want him to leave someone behind here in Lebanon just to go off and retire with me somewhere else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am not aware of anyone that Sam knows who he would prefer to having a retirement with you, here or anywhere else.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh…uh, that’s good, thanks, Cas. I’m just going to get back to getting the plugs done.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean is happy with the answer he just got, Cas seems to monitor both of them pretty closely, so maybe there really isn’t someone else that Sam is seeing. But then who was Sam writing about in his journal? This hasn’t solved any of his questions, maybe it’s even made them a bit worse. If they go off and retire together like Sam’s pushing for, that might give Dean more time to get a real answer, but not at the risk of Sam sacrificing a potential for a happier ending.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam writes in his journal that evening about the strange questions from Dean and the suggestion from Jack that he ask Dean about the whole thing. And that’s when he notices the sticky fingerprint on the previous page in his journal. Two of the pages are lightly stuck together by what looks like jam or maybe pie filling. There’s only one person who lives here in the bunker that would be snooping around leaving behind their pie-covered fingerprints—Dean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reads the page the fingerprint is stuck on, re-reads what he’s written several times, it was all about that Margaret Atwood quote. He thinks he was vague enough about who he was thinking about, but who knows with Dean. His brother can be scary good at putting together the facts of a case, but since this is about them, maybe Dean won’t be on his A game. That’s the only thing Sam can hope for at this point. He was asking about Sam seeing someone in town, so far so good, hopefully maybe?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But the more he thinks about it, the more he starts getting pissed off, after an entire lifetime of Dean’s snooping, Sam knows he should be used to it, this casual invasion of his privacy. If only Dean had something similar like the journal so Sam could get back at him in an equal way. All Sam’s got for a defense is being weird right back at him. That’s what he deserves for being such a snoopy big-brother. He decides right then and there that the next strange question he gets from Dean, he’s going to answer with his own equally strange question. That will at least be entertaining—the game is afoot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night at dinner, after Jack and Cas have left the table, Dean tries to open up a discussion about the people that they might know in town.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, who do you think you’re you going to miss the most in town when we move?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam almost answers Lila at the post office, but just before he says her name he remembers his promise to himself. “I have to think about it, how about you? Who are you going to miss the most?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Probably I’ll miss Frank the bartender, he’s gotten me through a few rough nights,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s stomach cramps with something familiar, that green-tinged barb of jealousy he feels whenever Dean connects with someone else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think that’s kind of sweet, having a connection with the local bartender,” Sam teases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know, sometimes, a guy just needs someone to talk to,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam looks up at him sharply, stomach clenching with the realization that this means Dean didn’t choose him, what sounds like more than once, Dean had chosen instead to talk to Frank the fucking bartender.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I mean—sometimes, when I need to talk about what’s going on with you, or you and me, I need to talk to someone else besides you or me,” Dean says, eyes hopeful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What about Cas or Jack, why not talk to them?” Sam asks, continuing his asking weird questions promise to himself instead of offering what he’s really thinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re not always around, and also, they’re not human or fully human, so they don’t quite get what I’m usually worrying about. You know how they are, especially about important human stuff,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, if you’re worrying about me or something to do with us, I wish you’d just…you know, talk to me,” Sam says, abandoning the only asking questions promise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, Sammy, I try to most of the time, I do, but sometimes it’s—well, it’s hard to explain. We’re so used to dealing with each other, 24/7 right? But when big things have come up, and I’ve needed to get my head sorted, sometimes it helps to talk to someone who doesn’t really know me, or us at all. Just to get an unconnected, outside point of view,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see, I think I get it,” Sam says, so relieved to feel his stomach unclamping from the jealousy over the stupid bartender. “Sounds like wherever we move to, there had better be a decent neighborhood bar with a bartender who’s a great listener.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night Sam writes about this conversation and how it makes him feel to realize that he’s just as jealous if not more so, than Dean is. He was wondering if Dean’s snooping and questions about who he was seeing in town were motivated by some weird jealousy, and yeah they absolutely are, but he’s right there with Dean, having the same freaking issues—what a pair they are.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam remembers the most recent time he was jealous over Dean, it had been on one of their last cases. One of the witnesses had been flirting madly with Dean and he had flirted right back. It had had been hard to not say anything and to not be growly about it, especially since the guy reminded Sam of himself, a lot taller than Dean with longish brown hair. Fortunately he’d had a reason to tug Dean away from the guy because of the case. But the burning green fog of jealousy had made him less effective when it to finishing their case. The claw marks he’d ended up with had seemed a fitting punishment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So are those the exact same feelings of jealousy for both of those cases? Sam writes and tries to figure that out in his journal. Worrying about Dean talking to the bartender in town, sharing his thoughts and worries feels a whole lot more intimate somehow. Considering Dean possibly hooking up with yet another person after a lifetime of enduring that is part of Sam’s normal day-to-day. Both are definitely rooted in jealousy, but they’re him being jealous about different parts of Dean, his heart and soul versus his body. Sam knows he wants the whole package all to himself, but he doesn’t write that bit down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He continues on, thinking and writing, developing the ideas, if it’s possible that Dean is jealous like he is himself, in either of the two ways, doesn’t that finally confirm what Sam’s suspected all these years? Their feelings for each other might be mutual, in all ways, legal and not. He considers using the truth spell that Rowena had taught him not long before she became Queen of Hell. <em>(you killed her, Sam, you killed her)</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d promised himself that he’d only use it for help on their hunting cases, not for ‘home use,’ because that wouldn’t be fair to Dean. But neither was reading Sam’s journal fair to Sam. The frustration of not knowing for sure, one way or the other is killing him. It’s been a lot of years, bearing the weight of his feelings for Dean all on his own. He could probably get Jack to bring up the subject somehow, but that would be using their kid…as a weapon. And that is much too on the nose to the original Atwood quote that started this whole thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The game is still afoot, but now it’s utterly changed. How can Sam get Dean to say or do something to confirm his suspicions that their feelings for each other are indeed mutual without Dean realizing what he’s doing? It’s going to be tricky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before he can decide on a course of action, the very next night Cas says something at dinner as he’s passing the bowl of roasted vegetables that sort of solves the issue for Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jack and I have been talking, comparing notes as you like to say, and we have some concerns we need to discuss. Are the two of you okay, or do you need our help?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean looks up and meets Sam’s surprised eyes with a smirk. “We’re fine, right, Sam?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, we’re good, just getting the details of the whole moving thing worked out. Why do you ask, Cas?” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cas says that you two are calcified, and that we would need well-timed explosions to break you out of it,” Jack says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like this one maybe?” Dean asks with an even bigger smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Exactly like this one, Dean. You have been quizzing your brother about who he may be seeing in town. And Sam, you have been asking why Dean is asking that question. It seems to us, that it would be more straightforward and likely beneficial if you were to ask these questions directly to one another.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Leave us out of it, talk amongst yourselves,” Jack says, doing a spot-on imitation of Mike Meyers’ character Linda Richman on SNL.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam laughs at Jack’s imitation, he had forgotten that Dean had been showing Jack some of his favorite sketches from SNL last week.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He does an awesome Gumby too, sounds just like Eddie Murphy,” Dean says, laughing with Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you do it? Will you talk to each other?” Cas interrupts the brother’s laugh-fest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“At some point, sure,” Dean says, trying to sober up from laughing so hard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But probably not when you’re bugging us to do it,” Sam says. He hopes that Cas bringing up this question won’t shove Dean even further into the closet of denial he’s already got himself locked inside. Sam’s right in there with him if he’s honest. It seems pretty hopeless and pointless and his mind can’t hold it all sometimes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All of this happening right as they make the decision to retire makes sure that particular conversation never takes place. Instead it’s left hanging there, taunting Sam with everything left unsaid. Sam can feel the promise of it, and the threat of it too. He keeps thinking about Dean agreeing that at some point they’ll talk. Okay, but when?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s been playing pack-the-car Tetris all morning and he’s just about had it with Dean micromanaging every little thing. Usually he can just roll with Dean’s control issues, but when it’s something major like this, he has to make an extra effort to not just stomp off or start screaming.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seriously, Sam, we can’t possibly fit another box of books in the car, there’s just no room left,” Dean says, hands on his hips like some stereotype of a scolding housewife.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sighs and sets the last box of books down into the perfect spot he’s just created for it. They’re his journals and he’s not leaving them behind. “Well, fine then. I’ll just have to take something else out, we don’t need all of these pillows do we?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Those are my almost brand-new ones, so that’s a hard no. Find something else to jettison,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How about the spell boxes, they’re taking up a lot of room. Do we really need both of those?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, we’ll just bring one of them. You know if we don’t have at least one, we’ll need it and be screwed if we don’t have it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s solved, and now to figure out how to tie my mattress to the top so that it’s secure for the whole drive there,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ve already had this discussion, Dean, about five times by my unofficial count. What’s changed since we last talked about this?” Sam asks, examining his brother to make sure this is really just about a freaking mattress and not something more important.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I…uh, I’m just gonna miss it,” Dean says, body deflating into a four-year old’s post-tantrum posture. He obviously knows he’s lost the argument the first five times already.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can get new mattresses when we get there to our place if the beds aren’t up to your standards, okay?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But this is—“ Dean starts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam interrupts, “I know, it remembers you. But it’s also eight years old, and probably needs replacing. Besides, it’ll be nice to have this here to welcome you back when we come visit these guys, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Think it will still remember me?” Dean asks with a sad smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure you’re unforgettable,” Sam says without thinking it all the way through.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s cheeks turn pink at about the same rate as Sam feels his own flush. Why the hell did he say something like that?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam took a deep breath to stall to think of something that would fix things. “I just meant—I don’t think Cas and Jack are going to have a lot of visitors staying over. And we can just ask them not to let people use your room.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not what…never mind. You’re right, new life, new mattress here I come,” Dean says, marching out of the garage and down the hall towards his room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sinks against the side of the Impala, breathing a little bit heavy at the relief he feels for not getting an earful from Dean. He’s got to be more careful. Everything is changing for them, but not <em>that</em>. He’s got to keep it separated off from his thoughts so it doesn’t pop out like that. Blowing everything up before they’ve even moved would be par for the course. He heads off to his room to check one last time on not forgetting anything important.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****</p>
<p>Sam and Dean have now checked and re-checked their own rooms and the common spaces for important things they might have forgotten. Sam’s gone over his checklists of what they needed to bring to move into the house easily. The Impala is pretty packed, they’ve left just enough room to easily fit both of them. All Sam wants to do at this point is sit down in a car that’s moving towards their destination.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas and Jack have been hovering around, trying to be helpful and looking unsure about how the rest of this saying goodby thing goes.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Ready, Sammy?” Dean asks, shutting the trunk with a final sounding thud.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam nods and steps up beside him, facing their two friends for this sure to be strange farewell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Text us when you get there,” Jack says, grinning at the two of them in turn. He knows it’s funny that a teenager is saying something like that, he’s almost not one by now. Almost a grown man.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your presence will be missed,” Cas says with the almost smile that Sam has always appreciated. He knows it isn’t a normal thing for angels to show emotion, so when Cas tries Sam knows he really means it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With that exuberance of youth that he hasn’t gotten too old for yet, Jack slings his arms around both brother’s necks bringing them in close. “Thanks for everything you guys. I wouldn’t still be here without you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let us know if Cas gets out of hand,” Dean says, squeezing Jack with one arm, and Sam with the other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do know of course that I am able to hear you, Dean,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam laughs and squeezes Jack and Dean as hard as he can for a moment. “Like we said before, Jack, this isn’t forever. And you can always come visit us.” He reaches out towards Cas and brings him into the group hug. Have they ever had a group hug? Not like this one, usually the hugging happens when someone has just died or is about to—this is a whole different thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just give us a heads up, no popping in unannounced or watching us while we sleep,” Dean says, bopping Cas on the shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, understood,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll text you first, I promise,” Jack says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s the first one to let go of everyone, he can’t take it anymore. Their strange little temporary family is coming to an end here, they all know it. It’s suddenly time for what comes next. He watches as Dean reluctantly releases Cas and then finally Jack, he can see that Dean’s eyes are a little misty around the corners. Now that he’s noticing, his own are as well. It’s the end of an era, a big chunk of their lives was spent in the bunker, and Sam’s honestly happy that it’s over, at least for now. He hopes once again, that Dean is too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, here we go, off on our final roadtrip, Sammy!” Dean yells as they roar out of the bunker’s garage entrance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam turns to look through the back window at Jack and Cas waving them off but only sees a wall of boxes. A glance in the side view mirror does the trick and he barely stops himself from waving back. He’s surprised at how okay he is with just up and leaving them. Maybe (probably) it’s because of who’s sitting right next to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Who said there’s no more road trips in our future? You’re not going to put the car in the garage and just leave her there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Course not, I oughta wash your mouth out with soap,” Dean jokes, grabbing Sam around the neck with his right arm and pretending to noogie Sam. “It’s just going to be different is all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cut it out,” Sam says, pushing Dean’s arm off. “I’m not six anymore, you can’t just start noogieing people for no reason, especially if you’re driving.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, you’re right, you’re right. You get a free noogie opportunity when I’m not driving.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Back to the subject though, what is this about no more road trips?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not what I said, it’s just going to be different, the trips we take will be—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not hunting related,” Sam interrupts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, exactly, they’ll be something we choose to do, just because we want to go someplace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Got it. That is going to be different. You going to miss it you think?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What hunting or road-tripping as part of hunting?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both, all of it, the thrill of the chase, all of that is going to be gone. Probably going to get pretty boring,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think we’ve kind of earned a little boring by now, don’t you?” Dean asks with a totally unfamiliar smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>How can there possibly be a smile on Dean’s face he’s never seen before in his life? He’s never seen a retired Dean before, that’s why. He looks at his own reflection in the side view mirror and tries out his own version.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’re you smiling like a lunatic about?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just looking forward to finding out what boring is like, I guess,” Sam says, consciously leaving out the ‘with you’ part. He’s pretty sure Dean hears it anyway given how his brand-new smile brightens just a bit more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They drive a few hundred miles, without much more talking, and stop for a quick fill up. Then they’re back on the road for a couple more hours, Dean occasionally changing the radio station.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Damn these radio stations suck out here. Can you grab a tape for me?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Anything in particular?” Sam asks, because that’s how this always goes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You pick,” Dean says. “Surprise me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kinda hard to surprise you when you know every single tape we own backwards and forwards” Sam says, surprised at how shocking it is to get this rare opportunity to choose the music as a passenger. That’s a life-long rule they’ve always used. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole. So why’s Dean changing it now all of a sudden? Sam flips through the tapes and finally finds one that he usually chooses when he’s the one driving.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The reggae beat of “Master Blaster” starts up, and Dean’s tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as Stevie Wonder starts singing. It always cracks Sam up that it is a guarantee that Dean will always groove out to Stevie Wonder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So…uh, you know how I’ve always been putting myself in charge of making decisions for us?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh huh, yeah,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, I’m thinking I need to retire from that too. It made sense to do things that way when we were on the run or in danger, but we’re not going to be either of those things now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So…we’re really talking a full-on retirement then, huh?” Sam says, obviously trying to hide a laugh or a snicker.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” Dean challenges, feeling that big brother anger at being doubted by his little brother surge up, loud and strong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I…uh, think you can do it, yeah of course you can. But I don’t think it’ll work if you’re doing it just for me. I think it’s something that will work out better if you really want to do it for yourself. If that’s how you’re approaching it, then I say go for it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh I have your blessing, good to know,” Dean snarks, still feeling a little irked at Sam’s response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, I’m so used to how you usually put yourself in charge, I already have ways that I deal, tricks I use to get around it, whether you notice or not,” Sam says with a self-satisfied smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you’ll figure out ways to deal if I’m not automatically throwing myself into the pole position,” Dean says, feeling his anger disappear just at seeing Sam’s smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Listen, it’s going to be an adjustment, this whole retirement thing, for both of us. And I’m glad you’re thinking about how and what to change, I really am, hell you’re telling me about it, which is awesome. Just remember that it’s not going to be automatically okay, we’re probably going to go back and forth, up and down getting used to it, and that’ll be okay as long as we keep…you know, talking about all of it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, this is why I need to let you take the lead more. You can put the big picture together for me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m happy to, whenever you need a break,” Sam says with a smirk. “My first order, is that I insist we need to stop for dinner at the Pizza Ranch in Bennet. It’ll be the first exit after we merge onto Interstate 70 from Highway 36.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pizza Ranch, huh?” Dean asks with a raised eyebrow, he thought they’d had a discussion about how the place sucked the last time they tried one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s the last decent salad bar I know of that’s on our way, and they have good chicken too. We need to eat before we get into the Denver metro area, you’ll get too hangry if we’re stuck in the evening rush hour.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hangry, I won’t get whatever the fuck hangry is!” Dean protests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam raises an eyebrow, just one because that’s all he needs to prove his damn point.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean gets the message and grumbles along with his suddenly hungry stomach, “I guess I can get one of their Bacon Cheeseburger Pizzas, that was pretty good last time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Leave it to you to find the thing on the menu with the most cholesterol possible, so I take it that means we’re going?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m all in, especially if you’ll split one of those dessert pizza things with me. It’s like pie has just morphed into a different form.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As long as it’s not the cherry one that tastes like ass, then sure, why not it’s an occasion,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, being in charge ain’t so bad, Sammy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>By Sam’s process of elimination the place they're headed toward is one that they own in Englewood, Colorado. It’s very near Denver, and the house is actually located just a couple blocks away from Craig Hospital, one of the best head-trauma hospitals in the country. Dean’s knee issues are nothing extraordinary, and are easily treated at just about any competent hospital and there’s plenty of orthopedic surgeons listed right in the same area. It had made a lot of sense back when Sam was researching and comparing the possibilities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As they make the final turn onto the street that will now be their street, the one where they live, Sam gets a little tingle, a flash of a mini-vision of the future. He’s always gotten these and never told Dean about them, or thought about them very much. But this one is different in its specificity. There’s a room with a bed, a big bed, and they’re both in it, wrapped around each other. The furnishings are all unfamiliar, the quilt they’re under looks handmade, all triangles in shades of blue and green. The sheer curtains are billowing in a light breeze, letting in a little light so he can see the peace on both of their sleeping faces.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sighs and lets it go. This isn’t a vision of the future, it’s some sort of wish fulfillment fantasy. This is not a possible future, he knows that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s shooting a worried look at him, probably because he sighed too loudly. “We’re here, I think.”</p>
<p><br/>Sam looks up at the garage door they’re parked in front of. The house number is right. He gets out and stretches. The dinner from Pizza Ranch settling uneasily in his stomach after that vision or whatever it was. He grabs his laptop bag and fishes out the house keys the management company had sent him. Dean’s right behind him as he unlocks the front door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They step in together, jostling against each other in the small hallway. Dean feels too alert next to him, like he’s ready for something to pounce on them out of the darkness. Sam fumbles for a light switch and there it is. Suburban ordinariness, just as expected. Nothing creepy or old or haunted. The furniture looks mostly solid, but somewhat worn. It’s got a homey feeling, even though there’s nothing of theirs in the place yet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s opening and closing all the cabinets in the compact kitchen, grumbling about the lack of storage space.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You just got spoiled by the giant kitchen in the bunker. No regular-sized house is going to have that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“At least the fridge is already cold,” Dean says. “I’m going to go grab the cooler and some other stuff.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll unlock the garage so you can pull in,” Sam says. He makes his way to the door leading into the garage, passes the fairly new washer and drier. This is going to be nice to have. The garage is empty except for some gardening tools and a snow shovel. The automatic opener works and Dean pulls the Impala inside. She just barely fits lengthwise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam leaves the door open so they have room to maneuver around the trunk. Dean’s got their green cooler and the boxes that were on top of it pulled out of the back seat. Sam scoops up the boxes while Dean grabs the cooler.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I still can’t believe you brought a whole box of those journals with you. Why didn’t you leave them in the bunker?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Had to make sure you had enough reading material,” Sam says, stomping off down the very short hallway to where the two bedrooms are located. He chooses the slightly bigger one that looks out on the back garden. There’s an empty book case that he loads up a shelf with the journals, arranging them carefully in order.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s comment on the box of Sam’s journals is still rankling even though Sam came up with a good comeback in the moment for once. He hopes Dean doesn't mention it again, because Sam is feeling cranky and he’ll fight him on it. And he doesn’t want to, he knows he’s reacting because he never confronted Dean about reading said journals without authorization back in the bunker.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s likely that neither of them is quite sure if it’s because of the trauma of the move and ending their former life and trying to begin a new one in such a new place, everything changing at once, that they’re fighting about such a dumb thing. But there’s always The Unspoken thing, why not add that on to their plates too?</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Fact or a weapon, fact or a weapon</em>, Sam thinks on a loop, it’s both, it’s always both.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Before Sam has to follow through or follow up on any of those thoughts he hears a crash and one aborted cry of pain. The measuring cups are still spinning on the kitchen floor, all the kitchen tools they’d taken from the bunker are spread out in a fan around Dean and the now mostly empty box. Dean’s curled up around one outstretched leg, holding tightly so that he doesn’t scream again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s at his side, kneeling on the floor next to him, a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “What happened?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s it look like?” Dean snarls. “I tripped on the edge of the cooler coming in here. I tried to keep from dropping the box and hit the floor on my knee.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sees Dean’s holding his right knee, which is the worst one of the two, of course.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why’d I have to bring all this stuff anyway? We could have just bought new everything.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’d raided the bunker kitchen for all their favorite tools that weren’t made anymore, and those things were well-made and in aggregate, really heavy. “You wanted to have the well-made stuff that we can’t buy anymore. It’s not important now, let’s get you up off the floor. Hopefully there’s some ice in the freezer.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam stands up and grabs Dean under the arms, hoisting him up in one effort. Dean’s eyes go wide with the feeling of being lifted and he struggles to balance against Sam. Sam holds him steady for a moment, relishing the almost hug, but then feeling guilty because Dean’s in so much pain. He holds Dean up as he hops over to the couch and helps him lay down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Goddammit, this wasn’t supposed to go like this. I’m sorry,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s okay, there’s not too much more left to bring in,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I meant, we aren’t going to be able to do the getting used to the area thing we’d planned on doing. I’m probably going to need surgery really soon now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can tell that it’s that bad?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can’t bend it at all now. Scale of one to ten, it’s a nine,” Dean says through gritted teeth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The second he hears Dean voluntarily give such a high pain scale number, Sam knows that it’s got to be bad if Dean’s admitting that. “I’ll grab the med kit and get you something that’ll help.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s in my duffel in my room,” Dean says with a groan as he shifts on the couch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam comes back with a plastic bag of ice, two bottles of beer and a few painkillers. He sets the bottles down on the coffee table and places the ice gently on Dean’s knee. He opens one bottle of beer and hands it to Dean with the pills. How many times has he done this very thing? He’s lost track, there are too many times to remember. The familiarity of it is oddly comforting though in this new place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean takes the pills and grimaces after swallowing them down with half the beer. “This really sucks, I’m not going to be able to walk, much less drive for a while.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll get you in to a doctor as soon as we can,” Sam says. “The rest of it doesn’t matter right now, it’ll work out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry to be kicking this off with such a dumb injury,” Dean says.</p>
<p>“Hey, it’s been a while since we’ve moved, we’re out of practice, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, we really are, I hadn’t thought about that,” Sam says, sipping his own beer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Also, what I said before, about you bringing your journals, that was really shitty of me. I didn’t mean it how it came out, I was just being bitchy for no good reason.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam finds that he can’t say anything, not that he’s speechless, but more like he’s got nothing. What can he say to that without bringing up all the other stuff they’ve been avoiding talking about? He doesn’t want to do that to Dean when he’s laying here in pain. There’s fighting just to fight and then there’s fair fighting. He moves from his perch on the coffee table and settles into the big recliner next to Dean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looks like this was BYOTV kind of place,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can order one online from somewhere, pretty sure there will be a place that delivers,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What kind of beds do you think these are? Mine seemed kind of hard,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, just about anything’s going to be hard compared to your memory foam,” Sam says. “Tell you what, how about you try it tonight and if it’s completely awful, we’ll get new ones delivered along with the TV.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean says, wriggling a little on the couch like he’s settling in for a nap.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Want me to set up my laptop, we can watch something to distract you from your knee,” Sam asks, trying not to be distracted by Dean’s wiggling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure, that’d be good,” Dean says, finally settling down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam stands up to go grab his laptop bag and is almost out of the living room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And if there’s any beers left,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“On it,” Sam says, leaving the room. He heads to his bedroom and lays down briefly on the bed. It’s somehow both as hard as a rock and saggier than hell. He mentally adds definitely buy new beds to his list and closes his eyes to replay what Dean had just said, his unexpected apology somehow even sweeter in Sam’s memory. He didn’t apologize for reading Sam’s journal back at the bunker, but Sam knows that’s not ever happening. It’s probably better to try to forget the whole thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They watch a few episodes of Narcos on Netflix and Dean falls asleep on the couch. Sam finds a blanket that Dean had brought from the bunker and covers him up with it. He’s turning out the lights when he looks back to see Dean moving, his hips shifting in a way that is nearly heart-attack inducing. Sam mentally slaps himself for ogling his injured brother, emphasis on brother. </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Their house is on the small side, but not too small, three bedrooms, with two good-sized bathrooms, as well as an attached garage towards the back of the oversized lot to keep Baby safe from the rough Colorado winters. The garden is completely overgrown, especially when compared to the rest of the neighborhood. Basically their house is definitely past due for a big sprucing up. The rental management agency they’ve been using during their absentee ownership wasn’t much on the exterior upkeep. Sam hopes it will get them some nice comments from the neighbors when they start working on the exterior. Nobody likes to have that one unkempt house on the street that brings the neighborhood down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their house had always been rented out furnished, so there is already a full assortment of motley yet comfortable furniture. After that first night in their house, Dean insists that they splurge on two new memory foam mattresses even though he spent the night on the couch. Sam doesn’t put up much of a fight on that one and happily helps arrange their bedrooms when the mattresses are delivered that afternoon along with a new TV. Dean can’t move much heavy stuff, so he provides lots of oh-so-helpful directions from where he’s propped up on the couch with an icepack on his knee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Within a couple weeks, Dean is already getting the one completely useless recently injured knee replaced, so that he can at least get around. The doctor offers to do both of them at the same time, but that still seems like an invitation to disaster if any supernatural foes happen to track them down to be completely immobile. So the recently injured one is done first, the one on the right.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s home after just one day in the hospital following his successful knee replacement. The nurses wish Sam good luck as he packs Dean into the car for the short drive home. It’s going to be a long six weeks for Sam to play nursemaid while Dean is healing up. They have home visits from a nurse a few times which is reassuring, Sam can’t help but worry himself sick that something is going to go wrong. They’ve survived all the crazy supernatural things they’ve survived, but something this mundane will be the thing that takes Dean out, takes him away permanently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam notices that he’s spacing-out more often, well it’s more than that, it’s more like a trance state. It isn’t so bad, but it’s not a trance that he consciously chooses to go into. Dean doesn’t notice, thank god for small favors, but it shakes Sam’s confidence in his grasp on reality. He spends more time at Dean’s side, touching him if possible. The scar on Sam’s hand gets a real workout once again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean notices that of course.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, leave that alone, Sammy,” Dean says, interrupting the episode of Battlestar Galactica they’re watching. “You’re doing a real number on your hand again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam pulls his hands apart and tries to hide the damage by rubbing them on his jeans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let me see,” Dean says, holding out his hand, palm side up. Sam reluctantly lays his hand on Dean’s and Dean massages the back of it. Sam hadn’t realized how tense he was when his muscles release and un-cramp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean turns Sam’s hand over and barely holds back a gasp. “You need stitches, dude,” Dean says, tracing a finger along the edge of the raw and red open wound on Sam’s palm. “Want me to do it, or are we going to the hospital?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam gets up from the couch and stomps into the kitchen to dig up their med kit. He spends too long washing his hand thoroughly in the hottest water with way too much soap. The sharp pain helps as he struggles to get his game face back on. He wets a cloth, grabs a towel, and then stomps back into the living room. Dean’s watching him closely, with that worried expression that Sam despises and loves all at the same time. Sam hands him the med kit and flops down next to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam grabs Dean’s hands and washes them with the warm washcloth before he starts stitching. The space battle rages on behind them, life and death and Cylons forgotten. How many times have they done this? Sam spirals into thinking about it, all the times Dean has pieced him back together, all the stitches, and staples and duct tape. It adds up over the years. He barely notices the pain as Dean pulls the skin of his palm back together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know how well this is going to heal up, since the skin is all scar tissue,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam comes back to the present enough to answer. “It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s holding my insides inside, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean chuckles and tapes down the last side of a bandage. He holds Sam’s hand in-between his two hands. “Sammy, you gotta talk to me instead of doing this to yourself, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll…uh, I’ll try. Sorry, I’m sorry, Dean,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean gently releases Sam’s hand after raising it so close to his face, for a moment Sam thought he was going to kiss it better like he used to all those years ago.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For some unknown dumb reason, Sam says it out loud, even though he knows that he really shouldn’t. “Thought you weren’t done until you kissed it to make it better.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean looks up at him, sharp and assessing, he doesn’t smile until he’s leaned over to Sam’s outstretched palm, kissing the meaty part below Sam’s thumb.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s the Mount of Venus, you know,” Sam says, smiling back at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, then I call upon Venus Herself, to heal my brother quickly so he can make me some damn popcorn while we watch the rest of this show. I’m restarting this episode, okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll go fix the popcorn, you need more ice for your knee or maybe a beer?” Sam asks, standing up to get away, to hide from the desire surging through him in a wash of prickling skin and the racing of his heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both,” Dean answers as he fiddles with the tv controls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam gets the popcorn started and watches Dean from the kitchen entrance. Splayed out on the couch with his knee propped up on cushions on the coffee table, he seems to take up all the space in the room. Or maybe he’s just the only thing that matters to Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Refurbishing the garden gives Sam something to do while Dean’s recovering from the knee surgery. He spends time online researching and also talking to their new neighbors. After a lot of consideration, he plants all kinds of native Colorado shrubs in the front yard. The next big job after that is done, is to trim all the overgrown trees to give the new plants a chance to grow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He finds a ladder leaned up against the backyard fence and uses it to climb up above the roof line to clear the tree limbs that have grown up to rest on a corner of the roof. While he’s up there, on the very top of the ladder, using the clippers, listening to a history podcast on his headphones, he loses track of exactly where he is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Everything real all fades away and he’s seeing something else, something in the future, a real true vision of what’s to come. He knows it’s a special vision, because he has the use of all of his senses, he can smell the barbecued steak dinner Dean had made them and the sharp tang of the wine on their table, he can hear their dog panting and begging for a scrap, he can see the light from the candles shining on Dean’s mostly grey hair and the wrinkles on Dean’s face crinkle as he smiles and leans in to kiss him, he can feel Dean’s lips on his and Dean’s warm hands on his face. The feeling of joy and peace is overwhelming, it’s too much, and it’s too good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s lost track of where and what he’s doing in the real world, absorbed in this vision sent from who knows where and falls from the highest step of the ladder right down onto the concrete patio ten feet below.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>****</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean wakes up from his afternoon painkiller doze, knee aching more than hurting which is an improvement. He rings the bell that Sam had given him, but his brother doesn’t come. He listens and doesn’t hear Sam moving around inside the house. Sam might have gone out for more plants or lunch, but he can see that the Impala is still parked in their driveway. He calls Sam’s cell and hears it ringing nearby, out in the backyard somewhere. He grabs his crutches and gets himself out to the back patio as the phone continues ringing without being picked up. He’s suddenly worried, because as into gardening Sam has gotten, Dean knows for sure that he would never pass up a chance to mother hen his patient.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean comes out onto the back patio and yells for Sam. He scans the backyard, eyes finally landing on where Sam’s laying. He’s right there on the sharp edge of the painted cement, sprawled out where he’d fallen. There’s no blood or broken bones that Dean can see, but he’s definitely knocked out. He doesn’t come to, even when Dean’s leaning over him, yelling and slapping him in the face. It seems to Dean that Sam’s pulse is a little erratic and his eyes aren’t reacting at all to the flashlight on his cell phone. That means calling 911 for only the second time in his life. He can’t do anything else, can’t even kneel on the patio next to Sam because of his damn knee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He rides the short distance to the hospital in the back of the ambulance with Sam, holding his hand and shoulder, trying his best to stay out of the way of the paramedics. Dean tries not to think about the last time, how it had also been a head injury for Sam, courtesy of the not-so-friendly neighborhood Leviathan. He remembers leaving that message for Bobby about driving off a pier with his beautiful mind brother. Yet another example of the more things change, the more they stay the same, history repeating itself, all that jazz.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>At first, Sam goes downhill pretty fast, right after being admitted and Dean has to pretty much force himself not to start screaming about the unfairness of it all in the hospital cafeteria. The ache in his healing knee is nothing compared to what his heart is going through. He can’t stand seeing Sam like this, unconscious, barely clinging to life. It’s just not fair, Sam wasn’t ready to go into the hospital yet. His brother has been psyching himself up for it the last few months. He’s been researching all the treatments they’ve discussed with Sam’s doctor, preparing his body with extra workouts and more vitamins and smoothies than even an LA health guru could manage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean knows that Sam’s head trauma issues have been on the increase during his own recovery from the knee surgery. Probably from the stress of care-taking for someone who has always been such a terrible patient. Their original plan had been that once Dean was mostly recovered, they would put Sam in the Craig Hospital for his recommended course of treatment. It was supposed to be a little over three months that Sam would be stuck in there. Now that their plan has been thrown out the window, and Sam is still out of it, the uncertainty of what comes next is almost paralyzing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a long couple of days before Sam’s stabilized and out of the ICU. He’s finally alert and talking and it feels like a bloody miracle. Dean hasn’t been home since the initial ride to the hospital. The nurses have been nice about bringing him icepacks for his knee and they sent a candy striper volunteer to their house to bring him a change of clothes and his meds. It had been weird handing over the keys to their house like that, but he didn’t want to leave Sam’s side, and they were offering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s first words when he comes out of it is something that Dean will never forget. “I’m still here, I thought I was gone.” His eyes finally open and focus on Dean and it’s suddenly the best damn thing that’s happened in ages.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was close, Sammy. But you’re already on the mend. Dr. Birney has already started some of the treatments you’d planned on doing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I fell…right? I fell, but this time it was a ladder, not into the hole.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, there wasn’t a hole this time, just you and a ladder and a plain old cement patio. You’re lucky you didn’t break an arm. Just gave yourself one hell of a concussion.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I saw—when I was up there, I could see it…” Sam trails off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What could you see? Was our hot neighbor out sunbathing topless again? Don’t tell me that’s why you fell off the ladder, you dirty dog.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam scowls and Dean has never been happier to be the recipient of bitch face number twenty-seven. “No…I wouldn’t care if she—I saw everything, Dean. I could see the future, our future…but it was just for a second.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this like your dreams from before, was someone dying?” Dean asks, suddenly worried like never before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it was just you and me, years in the future because we were both really grey. We were…uh well, we were really happy, just living in our house eating a steak dinner. We had a dog, Dean…and uh, that’s about all I remember.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And how do you know this was a vision of the future and not just wishful thinking. Pretty much your lifelong campaign to get a dog finally complete,” Dean jokes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another scowl and then Sam is smiling, beatific and somehow removed from the banal reality of the hospital room. “We were so happy, Dean, I could feel it, I could smell it, that’s how I know.” His head flops against the pillow as he drops back out of awareness, the faint trace of that beautiful smile still on his lips as the pain meds take over.</p>
<p><br/>Dean combs his fingers through Sam’s hair. “You know, the thing is, I think we are happy, Sammy. That’s already true, right? At least it is for me. I mean the whole surgery and hospital thing sucks of course. But we’re together, and we’ve got everything we need in our little house. Except for the dog of course. We can talk about that when you come home, okay?” Sam doesn’t answer him, but Dean hopes that he’s hearing him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The nurses assure Dean that they’ll tell Sam he’s coming back tomorrow morning and that they promise to call him if there’s any change in Sam’s condition no matter what time it might be. It’s strange how hard it is, leaving the hospital that first evening. He knows he needs to rest in a real bed, that he’s not going to help Sam one bit if he gets incapacitated. The front desk even sends someone out to give him the two block ride home. Still being on crutches gets you some special treatment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the next few weeks, Dean lives in their little house alone, and visits Sam for a good portion of the day, each and every day. Luckily it’s still early in the summer, so he’s not crutching or caning around on snow or ice. At first he catches a ride on the hospital bus that runs locally between all the buildings on the sprawling medical campus. But once he’s fully transitioned to using the cane, the PT people insist that he’s supposed to be walking, at least half hour a day. That’s about the time it takes to walk there and back to the hospital from their little house. He goes as far as getting some groceries delivered, and pays one of the neighbor kids to mow the lawn so he can spend more time with Sam.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>One of Sam’s day nurses, Wendy is a real knock-out as well as being funny and sarcastic, she makes Dean laugh. He flirts with her every single time she enters Sam’s room, maybe just to keep in practice, or because it’s a life-long habit, who really knows why. Probably more like the sheer boredom of sitting in the hospital worrying all freaking day. None of those excuses work on Sam who’s of course noticed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean bristles when Sam starts pushing him towards her with little digs and questions like: ’Why don’t you just ask her out?’ or ‘You don’t have to stay here all the time, go out with, Wendy’— that sort of thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At first Dean tries to put him off, explain the flirting away as something completely innocuous and harmless, because it is of course. It’s not like he’s going to be looking for love at his brother’s hospital bedside. What’s he going to do, start dating her while Sam’s still stuck in the hospital?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Sam, I’m not going to ask her out, so stop asking,” Dean says, using his best because big brother says so voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“She makes you laugh, Dean. How long’s it been since you had someone that made you laugh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“None of your damn business, just drop it,” Dean says, realizing that there’s only really ever been one person who fits that bill. And he’s laying in a hospital bed in front of him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam starts to say something even more annoying but then he freezes before a sound comes out. Dean watches as Sam’s eyes go blank and unfocused, his muscles relax all at once and he kind of melts into the pillow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy?” Dean asks, shaking Sam’s completely limp arm and shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam doesn’t react or shove him off or say anything. He’s just not there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s just about to jump up and run for the nurse’s station when he hears Sam mumbling. He leans forward and gets his ear close to Sam’s lips, hoping he can hear if Sam needs help.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is the best anniversary dinner we’ve ever had. I still can’t believe you got me this ring. I love you so much, Dean,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean sits back in his chair, shocked at what he’s just heard, watching the beautiful smile play over Sam’s lips. He can’t even think of what to say or do, obviously his brother is dreaming or something, but what if this is more of the vision of their future he’d had up on that ladder that got him stuck in the hospital?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You okay, Dean?” Sam’s voice interrupts Dean’s internal panicking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was…uh, I was really worried. You just had another spell or seizure or whatever we’re calling it,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I remember, yeah, it was the same one as before, just a little longer this time. Our dog is really cute and even though we’ve had him a while we can’t agree on what to call him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Our dog? Sam, we don’t have a dog,” Dean says, wanting to add on ‘or an anniversary or I love you’s or rings!’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam searches his face, looks momentarily worried and then sad. “What did I say?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was a lot of mumbling,” Dean lies.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry if I said something weird. I don’t know what these are, if they’re dreams or visions or what. They just feel so weird, like all my senses are involved and it’s so vivid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just stop pushing me on the whole Wendy thing, and we’ll call it even,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Wendy is of course disappointed and a little confused at Dean’s abrupt change in behavior, but then she’s pretty used to patient’s families being all over the map emotionally. When Dean’s out getting an afternoon coffee from the hospital cafeteria, Wendy finally says something about it to Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr. Campbell, your husband sure is a shameless flirt and a half. How in the world do you put up with it?” Wendy asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry if he’s been bothering you, Dean’s always dancing on the edge of harassment, nothing I say can seem to stop him,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, he seems to have toned it down after your last episode. Don’t worry about it, patient’s families always have a lot of emotions happening. Those of us on staff here just have to get used to handling it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If he starts bothering you too much again, just kick him in the ankle. That’s what I usually do,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean notices that Sam hasn’t bothered to correct her about the husband thing, as he eavesdrops from the hallway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Dean is so involved with getting Sam through his treatment in the Craig Hospital that he’s almost able to resist reading any of Sam’s journal writing. Until he isn’t. And then all hell breaks loose as far as his equilibrium is concerned and he keeps on reading.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He starts with the most recent volume Sam had been writing in, and reads all about Sam’s search for which city they should move to. He delights in reading all of Sam’s methodical, thoughtful research to narrow down the possibilities.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Out of all the properties they own through the series of cleverly set up trusts, (thank you again Charlie), there are three houses on Sam’s final list to choose from that are a single story, all the rest have at least one flight of stairs. One of them is in Florida, another in California, and both of those are no-go states without much discussion from either brother. Sam writes about how over all their years of hunting together, they just have silently agreed not to take cases in those places. They’ve never had a single conversation about it, and that’s okay by Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam writes about how he’s never really been able to forget how messed-up he was after the whole Mystery Spot experience. And he’s never shared it with Dean, not about that long six months after Dean had been killed for real. Dying in his arms in that parking lot. Sam writes pages and pages about that in the current journal Dean is reading. He reads everything that Sam writes about that unknown to him experience, as Sam recalls the utter and complete despair he’d felt in that moment, how the loss was so breathtaking and total and how he’d lost himself. How he’d even gone as far as taking a chance on killing Bobby.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Dean reads that part in Sam’s journals, he almost throws up, imagining Sam having to make that gamble. He had no idea what Sam had done to get Gabriel to bring him back, what he’d had to do to persuade the archangel to actually do it. Dean had honestly never thought much about it. Realizing that sets him back on his heels and he stops reading for the night.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next night he reads about how Sam believes California to be Dean’s no-go place. Sam writes all about it, how he’d be more than happy to live there, it wouldn’t be a problem for him, even with the loss of Jess happening there. It’s a big state after all, but it’s what it represents for his brother that takes the place off the list of possible retirement places. Sam writes about how he knows that for Dean, California represents the biggest loss of his life. That it stands for the time when Sam left him, chose school over him. He knows that Dean’s never gotten over it, Sam’s very honest in writing about that, and how it has impacted their relationship going forward. Living there would be too much to even try to ask, so Sam takes the California bungalow off the list.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean nods in agreement as he reads all this, Sam really does know him inside and out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All those months in the bunker before they’d moved, when Sam had seemed borderline obsessed with writing, always writing, in those damn journals of his. And there they all were now, all lined up on a shelf in Sam’s much too tidy and empty room. And there was Dean, alone in their house, while Sam was stuck in the hospital. Getting his grapefruit fixed, that’s how they’d always talked about it, probably picked it up from Bobby all those phrases for head injuries. But Sam had accumulated one too many (probably more like fifty too many) to be able to skate by with cute phrases. That gave Dean too much time alone. He could only sit in the hospital at Sam’s bedside for so many hours a day. His knees couldn’t take the sitting. They were better off propped up and he didn’t want to do that in the hospital. It would make Sam worry and get in the way of the nurses and so on. So he spent as much time with Sam, just hours hanging out, being there in the silence with him until his knees squawked at him too loudly to ignore. Then he’d grab his cane, kiss Sam on the forehead if he was asleep, or squeeze his hand if he was awake. He’d leave the room with the same phrase every single evening,</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be back,” Dean would say, in his very best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Depending on how out of it Sam was, he’d get at least an eye roll, sometimes an audible scoff. But on the best days, he’d get a quiet, “Thanks, Dean, I’m really glad you were here with me today. See you tomorrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The thing was, Dean could tell, his brother really truly meant every single one of those words when he was able to say them. He was thankful, and grateful all of that. And he somehow knew that saying ‘see you tomorrow’ mean the world to Dean. That phrase told Dean that Sam was promising to make it through another night alone, when Dean wouldn’t be there. It never got easier for Dean walking out of those hospital doors in the evening, This yawning pit in his stomach of worry and dread always there, the only thing that helped was replaying Sam’s quiet, ‘see you tomorrow.’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’d slowly make his way down the sidewalk, all the busy rush hour traffic on the four-lane road next to him as he carefully caned his way back home. The door unlocked and then locked behind him. A simple meal that didn’t require a lot of preparation or cleanup was made. He’d usually eat it in front of the tv, watch the last part of the local news broadcast and then Jeopardy when it came on at 7pm. He’d try to remember some of the questions and quiz Sam the next day. Sometimes, Sam would have watched the show also, it depended on how he was doing and what stage of treatment and recovery he was in.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After Jeopardy ended, that was when things got weird for Dean. Usually, if it was the two of them, they’d have a negotiation about what to watch next. And Dean missed that, desperately. Because if it was left up to him, he’d just watch whatever action or horror movie was on at eight. He wouldn’t bother researching good new shows to try out on Netflix, or made for Amazon Prime movies like Sam would. His horizons were slowly shrinking without Sam there to challenge him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Some nights he’d give up early on the movie that was playing on tv, especially if it was one of those new-fangled torture porn ones like Saw. He’d been there done that quite enough in person, he didn’t see much point in watching it as part of a time-wasting movie. That would put him to wandering the hallways and rooms of their small house. It seemed so big and empty without Sam in it. A lot of times he’d end up in Sam’s room, sitting in his comfy chair with the footstool that was just the right height. And he’d sit there and read through one of Sam’s journals. He knew they weren’t meant for him, that it wasn’t right. He was a snoop by nature, and he missed him, really really missed him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam was going to be okay, eventually, but in the meantime, the journals represented Sam at his very best. Getting the chance to read his brother’s words, as he went through the details of his life and his thoughts about everything he’d experienced was a gift. All the things Dean had always wondered but never had the guts to ask him about were covered in those books. He learned so much about Sam that he started to look at him differently when he’d go into the hospital the next day. Luckily, Sam was too out of it to even notice. He wouldn’t have wanted to have that fight in the hospital. It wouldn’t have been fair to Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean wishes he could bring up some of the issues Sam’s writing raised for him. Just the thought of actually talking about a lot of this sensitive stuff practically gives him hives. What is that reaction even about? Dean really wonders about himself sometimes. He rereads the first volume, the one that Sam had started back in the bunker. The one that had caused all the trouble to begin with. In it, Sam wrote about how this intensive writing was work he was intentionally doing to try to help himself as he couldn’t go see a therapist. Sam wrote about the ideas of self-worth, and self-evaluation, how they could help you change how you felt about yourself. It seemed pretty silly and woo-woo at first, but having read all the volumes now, Dean can see how far Sam has come in self-understanding after having all these written conversations with himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean decides to try it out himself. Heck, it will make for something new for Sam to read when he is the one in the hospital with his second knee surgery, right? Maybe Dean could even be brave enough to point his own journals out to Sam when he finally came back home from the hospital. Assuming he fills more than one of course. Dean finds a blank journal on Sam’s shelf, one of the very same brand all the others have been. He cracks it open and starts writing every night after he’s given up on the tv. He writes, right there in Sam’s room, comfortable in Sam’s chair. He writes until his hand cramps up and then he finally goes to bed in his own room. Having the company of his own thoughts is a good thing, he’s still deep in them as he falls asleep, letting his subconscious chew on the rest, hopefully that will help give him some insights the next day.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>He buys five new blank journals at the university bookstore on his way over to the hospital the next day. Dean gives one to Sam along with a pen that has a coonskin cap on the top. It has something to do with the University of Denver mascot and being a pioneer. Sam doesn’t question it, just keeps rubbing his thumb over the soft felt and touching the journal’s textured cover.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thought you might want to try and write something. You know…if you’re feeling up to it,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You went and bought this for me? At the university bookstore?” Sam asks, eyes going to the U of D logo on the plastic bag the other four blank journals were resting in near Dean’s cane.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, they had the same kind that you’re always writing in, so I wanted to get one like the kind you’re used to using,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s…I wish I could—thanks, Dean,” Sam says, eyes filling up with tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can’t stop himself, he swipes carefully under Sam’s eyes, catching his tears up with his thumbs, wiping them on the bedsheet. “Hey, you’re welcome. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to fill it up soon with all your hospital tales of survival,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam looks at him then, more like looks into him, and Dean feels like he wants to put his usual shields up, but he resists and lets Sam see. Sam’s eyes continue to be watery, maybe it's the meds, or being tired of being stuck in the hospital.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You doing okay, Sammy?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s eyes seem to refocus on the here and now, zeroing in on Dean’s eyes. “I’m struggling, it’s hard to—stay here,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where would you go?” Dean asks, confused about what Sam is saying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, not leave physically, more like the be-here-now kind of staying, you know, being present, in the now. My brain’s feeling even more unhooked from time than it did before—I think,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s hard to know, or remember which came first. Was I like this before I came here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sometimes, yeah, you’d get a little squirrelly about stuff like that, usually after getting hurt,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My eggs might have gotten scrambled one too many times, huh?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s why you’re even in here, dude. Dr. Birney sounded pretty hopeful last time I talked to him,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just don’t know if what’s wrong with me is something regular medicine can fix,” Sam says. “I’ve been thinking about it lying here, a lot of the damage has got to be from the angels, demons and other monsters that have been in my head. And it’s not like anyone has studied how to fix that kind of thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This has been going on for a long time, I think you’re mostly got it handled,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not true and you know it,” Sam says. “It’s why you were so hot to get me in here, you could see how hard it was going to be to try and take care of me when I went downhill even more.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hold on, hold on. I was not hot to get you in here, I just wanted you to be well. So you can go out and have a decent life, you know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But not a life where you’re stuck with me being a drooling idiot in the corner, got it,” Sam says with a sneer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know where this is all coming from, but that’s not how I’m picturing this going. You are doing so much better, maybe it doesn’t seem like it, but I can see the difference every single day. You’re more—present or whatever you want to call it. Sometimes it’s almost too much, like a few minutes ago when you were looking at me,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty fucking scary huh? Maybe I’m a monster again, maybe I always was,” Sam says, slurring and falling asleep instantly, or maybe even passing out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not a monster, and even if you were, you’d be my monster,” Dean says, smoothing Sam’s hair back from his forehead. He looks down at Sam’s face, gone slack with the absence of the animation from just a moment before. Sam’s doctor had warned him about mood swings, and that had been a doozy. Maybe Sam knew what he was talking about though. Maybe it wasn’t a result of the treatment, but something inside Sam, something that had always been there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean pulls out one of the blank journals and starts writing down his thoughts and worries. Everything about Sam’s treatment so far is put down in detail, all the conversations with Dr. Birney and the various nurses. They’ve all told him that Sam’s prognosis is great, that he’s doing better. Sam might be at one of those frustrating plateaus they both were warned about. He just wants his brother to be okay, to be himself and to have a good life in retirement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tries to picture it, what Sam would count as a good life now, because he knows it’s changed from back when his little brother would pine for every little town they’d pass through. From what he’s read in Sam’s journals, it seems like he just wants to be peaceful, and safe. Not to have to fight anymore. Dean’s already discovered for himself that he’s not going to miss the fighting all that much now that he’s gotten this extended break from it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He can already see that the fighting they’re going to be doing will be more of an internal thing, between their old habits and patterns and what they want now. Dean writes it down, what he really wants, his fingers retrace the words, his mouth moves as he silently reads them, almost like a prayer. A big part of Dean hopes Sam does read what he’s written down at some point. “I want us to be safe, and healthy and together, for as long as possible.” That doesn’t seem too complicated does it? Or too much to ask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’re you doing?” Sam asks, head titled in question. The light from the window catches his eyes so that they sparkle gold and green.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s breathtaking, Dean literally struggles to breathe and not share that observation out loud. Of course, Dean knows this, he’s lived with Sam almost his whole life, his brother is the most beautiful person that he’s ever seen. It’s just a fact, one that Dean’s gotten used to trying to shove down and ignore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You okay?” Sam asks, hiding a smile like he knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This writing thing is hard,” Dean says, offering an explanation to change the subject.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re writing now?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, seemed like a good way to pass the time when you’re taking naps on me all the time,” Dean says with a small grin so Sam will know he’s teasing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam rolls his eyes and grips the top of the novelty pen again, his other hand gripping the journal Dean had given him. “You filled one of these up already, didn’t you? You got the one I had left off my bookshelf.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can feel his eyes bug out in surprise, how can he have known? “Yeah, I did, that’s why I got you a replacement.” Dean points at the journal under Sam’s hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam opens the journal and stops searching Dean’s face for even more clues that he apparently no longer really needs. Dean is just glad Sam hasn’t said anything about him reading Sam’s journals without permission—yet. Sam presses down on the coonskin cap on the top of his pen until it clicks into place and starts writing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean watches him for a while, soaking in this view of his brother, doing something so normal, even though he’s in a hospital bed. A few weeks ago, it hadn’t seemed possible. His own eyes suddenly are gone watery. Sam’s finger gentles the tears away and Sam smiles at him like he knows, because of course he does.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>That night, when he’s home and sitting in Sam’s room, writing again, Dean remembers the whole thing right before they left the bunker. He gets that first volume down off the shelf and re-reads that part. He copies down the Margaret Atwood poem that had started the whole thing and writes about what he thinks about the whole thing now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>A truth should exist,</em></p>
<p>
  <em>it should not be used</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>like this. If I love you</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>is that a fact or a weapon?</em>”</p>
<p>― Margaret Atwood<b>”</b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>A fact or a weapon, a fact or a weapon he writes the phrase out several times on his journal page. Then he writes the word: <b>BOTH</b> and calls it a night. The other three of the new and empty volumes are carefully placed on Sam’s shelf, waiting for him to come home and write in them. Dean’s dreams are filled with chasing after Sam through a misty forest with hanging tree moss that is as wet as spaghetti slapping him in the face. He keeps calling Sam’s name, but his brother never answers, never even turns around.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he gets to the hospital the next morning, the strange dream makes a little more sense. Sam had an episode last night and they’d given him some heavy drugs to sedate him. It’s hard to see the ties on Sam’s wrists and ankles, but he reads the notes the nurses left in Sam’s chart and doesn’t blame them one bit. His brother is a lot to handle physically, and everyone’s much safer this way, but Sam is sure as hell not going to like it when he wakes up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You gotta wake up, Sam. They said the stuff should have worn off by now,” Dean says, squeezing Sam’s forearm. His skin is so soft there, so warm too, he tickles the inside of Sam’s elbow which usually works.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s no answer, no response. Fine, time for the big guns.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Last night I was writing, about that whole poem thing in the bunker right before we moved. And I decided the answer is both,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Both, huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought too when I read that, seemed like us, that’s why I wrote it down,” Sam says, his eyes still closed but his eyelashes are beginning to flutter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, you really back with me now, or what?” Dean asks, rubbing at Sam’s shoulder and down to his bicep. He’s still so damn strong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam opens one eye and peeks over at Dean’s hand like he wasn’t sure who was touching him. He yanks at the wrist restraints and then tries to kick his feet. “I can’t be tied down like this, I can’t,” Sam says with a note of panic in his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean presses the call button for the nurse and puts his hand back on Sam’s arm, squeezing gently to get Sam’s full attention. “They said you had an episode last night, and they had to give you heavy sedation. The nurse’s notes said it was a struggle for a while, they were just keeping you safe, dude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The morning nurse comes bustling in before Sam can protest again. “Back with us, Mr. Campbell, well done. Let me check a couple things and we’ll get you untied, huh?” Betty bustles around, takes Sam’s temperature, blood pressure, pulse ox and eye dilation. The velcro is unzipped and the restraints put in one of the drawers, just in case they’ll be needed again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve got a call into Dr. Birney, he wanted to know when you came out of it. He’ll be in pretty soon to talk to you about last night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Breakfast?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll get you one sent up toot sweet,” Betty says with a smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean mouths ‘toot sweet’ to Sam as she leaves, they both shake their heads and grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s massaging his wrists where the skin got roughed up by the restraints. “Guess I gave them hell last night if they tied me down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guess so, but they knew what to do. They took care of you just like they’re supposed to. Let’s just wait to see what Dr. Birney says, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam turns his head and upper body to stare out the window. “Looks pretty grey out there today, was it cold on your walk over?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean takes advantage of Sam being turned away to run his eyes up and down Sam’s body, especially the twisting curve of his waist that’s visible where his hospital johnny separates in the back. God, his back is so gorgeous the way it has all that power and muscle. He forgets to answer the small talk question.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You ogling my back, dude?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The weather was pretty nice, I mean it’s early summer, but it’s changeable,” Dean says, “that’s why I brought a jacket.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, so prepared. How’s my Apache Plume doing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s almost done with the white flowers, the seed head things or whatever the heck they’re called are kinda pretty,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you take a picture of it for me? I was looking forward to seeing how it changed,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ll take one tomorrow on my way over. The rest of the garden is doing pretty well, I’m glad you got the automatic sprinklers set up since I’m spending so much time here,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t have to, you know. I mean, I’m glad you’re here with me so much, but if it’d be better for your knees or the garden or whatever, take a few days off. I’ll manage,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, fuck my knees and the garden, I need to be here with you,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like you said, ‘both,' right?” Sam asks with a small smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean smiles back at him and laughs at being caught out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dr. Birney comes in then, tall with short grey curls and leathery tan skin. He’s an all seasons outdoor sports enthusiast. “Good morning, Mr. Campbell, glad to see you’re back with us.” He nods at Dean and does a little questioning thing with his eyes over at Sam and back again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean nods in answer to him to silently say: <em>Yeah, I think he’s okay now.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good morning, Dr. Birney, sorry I was a problem last night,” Sam says with a rueful smile. “Luckily for me, I don’t really remember much.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No apologies are necessary, Sam, that’s why you’re here. From what the nurses tell me, you had your episode about an hour into your sleep cycle. You screamed a few times and they thought you were having a nightmare, but then you were speaking in a strange language and thrashing so much you nearly fell out of your bed. You clocked Hannah a good one, as they were implementing the restraints and that was when they needed to sedate you. The treatments we’ve been doing have side effects as we discussed, and sleep disturbance is definitely one of them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But not the speaking in tongues thing I bet,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, not specifically, but there are a lot things that come up that are unexplainable concerning disturbed sleep patterns.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this something we need to worry about, or change the treatment Sam’s getting?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I think the nurses will be better prepared now, and the treatments are definitely working. We’ve seen a lot of improvements in the tests we’ve done on Sam so far. My next recommendation would be to have an fMRI performed.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hasn’t Sam already had several MRI’s already?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The fMRI is different, the ‘f’ stands for functional. We have the patient perform certain tasks while they are in the MRI machine, and we watch what’s happening in your brain. We can see the realtime functionality of the different sections of the brain. That way we can target our future treatments for Sam more effectively.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sounds good, when’s this happening?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Probably tomorrow morning, if we get it all approved by your insurance,” Dr. Birney says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is there any risk to this test?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nothing more than the usual risks of a normal MRI which Sam has already had without issues,” Dr. Birney says smiling at Dean’s protectiveness. This is what he’s come to expect over the last few weeks, it’s heart-warming to see a patient have a loved one advocating for them. Although Sam is perfectly able to do that for himself—at least for the moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sounds like a plan, doc,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it something I can be there for?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There won’t be much to see, and you can’t hold his hand or anything since he’ll be in the MRI machine,” Dr. Birney says. “But I’ll definitely show the both of you the results which I hope will give us some good clues on where to take Sam’s treatment next.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Dr. Birney,” Sam says, obviously trying not to smile about the hand holding comment. Dean gives him a little scowl to shut him up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll see you two tomorrow, keep doing what you’re doing Dean, it’s helping Sam,” Dr. Birney says with a twinkling little smile of his own. He’s had years and years of treating patients and their partners are always the wild card. Dean though, he’s the most thoughtful and helpful partner of any patient he’s ever seen. He’s always able to anticipate what Sam needs before he even asks, and he knows just how hard to push Sam when it’s the most important. For all of his medical issues, Sam is one lucky guy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door closes behind the smiling doctor and Dean sighs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think Dr. Birney really likes you,” Sam says in a teasing voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Breakfast arrives for Sam before Dean can come up with a good enough retort.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can go get yourself a coffee or something. You don’t have to sit here and watch me eat my lovely hospital oatmeal,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t have a good feeling about this FMRI thing. Seems like Dr. Birney is grasping at straws and this is maybe pushing it too far too fast.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’ll be fine, these are really routine for TBI cases like me, especially repetitive concussions. Sometimes they can pinpoint what’s causing some of the issues I’m struggling with most like the depression and the insomnia.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Depression?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I’ve been officially diagnosed, for all the good that does me,” Sam says with a rueful smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That a two for one offer by any chance?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You too, huh?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean nods, rubbing the back of neck, embarrassed to be so honest about stuff they don’t usually talk about.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, after you’re all done mother-henning me, and you get through the second knee replacement, you can go out there and get back to hunting, that usually cheers you right up,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean looks at him, mouth hung open in surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’d I say?” Sam asks, genuinely confused.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We retired, Sam. I’m done, I’m out, why would you think I want to hunt again?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you’re depressed, I thought that might have something to do with it,” Sam says. “It’s hard to change everything all at once like we did.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You really think that would fix me, huh? Just taking off, leaving you, to what…go off and hunt by myself?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve done that exact thing before, and it always seemed to cheer you up,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everything’s different now, hunting and all that’s not what makes me happy or whatever,” Dean says, standing up abruptly. “I’m gonna go get that coffee.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s almost out the door when Sam speaks quietly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, Dean.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean whirls around to see Sam’s crestfallen face. He comes back and sits on the edge of Sam’s bed so that they’re practically hip to hip. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know either. We kinda both suck at talking about this kind of shit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam looks up at him and his whole face brightens, like the mother-fucking sun coming out. It’s almost too much this close up. Sam’s eyes crinkle up like he’s about to laugh at Dean’s reaction. “It’s true, and it’s always been true. Maybe part of retiring has to be us finally learning to do all that differently.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All that communicating stuff?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, probably, hey, it’ll give us something to do while we’re turning into old retired farts, huh?” Dean asks with a grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That and working on our house and garden. I’m missing doing that, you have no idea,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, Sammy, you’ll be back out there soon, doing battle with the crabgrass or whatever. Just no more falling off ladders.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go get that coffee, you look like you need it, and if they have a bear claw, can you bring me one?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh my goodness, Mr. Campbell, you scamp, I’ll bring you one toot sweet,” Dean says in his best nurse Betty imitation. Sam’s laughter following him out of the room and down the hallway is the best sound he’s heard in weeks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>While his patient, Sam Campbell is in the hospital getting treatment earlier than they’d scheduled, Dr. Birney begins to suspect there is something truly strange in this man’s medical history. All the x-rays and scans show that he is not a normal run-of-the-mill TBI case and he can’t even make a guess what’s really happened to Sam. The strangest thing has to be the marks that are visible on the inside of Sam’s cranial bones, he’s never seen anything like that before. The scratches remind him of the ones his poodle has made on the kitchen door at home. It’s as if there was something inside his patient’s head, the scratches and marks are wild and deep. Whatever it was inside of Sam’s skull, it knew it was stuck in there, and it was desperate to get out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And don’t even get him started on what looks like some kind of writing incised on the patient’s ribs, that’s all kinds of weird. The symbols look ancient and Dr. Birney doesn’t recognize them. There are also enough external scars on the patient’s torso indicating that he could have done the carving himself, or allowed someone else to. Like he said, weird.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s recovery has plateaued after almost a month in the hospital, the normal course of action they’d planned on trying was not really working to fix his issues. Dr. Birney feels a little desperate to get some answers to this strange case. The last step in a normal course of treatment is to put Sam under an fMRI and get him to perform the usual variety of functional tests while he’s in the machine. It might not answer the interior cranial bones scratches and the writing on Sam’s ribs questions, but hopefully the results will point the way to where to head next to help Sam get back to full functionality.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The way his patient’s partner, Dean is always there, always asking good questions and being an advocate gives Dr. Birney that feeling of hope that his patient will have the help he needs at home to fully recover or to at least be able to adapt. They’re a very sweet and loving couple, they remind him of his parents who had been married for seventy-five years. He never got to have a love like that in his life because of how hard he’s worked in brain research and treatment. Seeing it in his patient’s lives is a reminder of why he even does this job.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the morning, they wheel Sam into the fMRI room, nothing seems amiss. It’s just an ordinary test on an extraordinary patient. After all the chaos begins about ten minutes after they’ve begun, Dr. Birney wishes he would have asked Sam about the scratches and the writing. Because in the moment, when everything feels like it’s about to come apart, he’s not sure he’ll have the chance to.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The fMRI is going along just as Sam expected, being stuck in an MRI machine isn’t exactly fun, but at least this time he gets to do stuff instead of just lay there. After a few minutes though, his body starts to feel strange, like it’s oscillating between being bigger than it should be and then smaller, and then back again. Sam thinks that maybe it’s a hallucination or a claustrophobic reaction to being in the machine. He tries instead to concentrate on the tasks Dr. Birney is describing, there’s a flare of light, not one that he can see with his eyes, but it’s coming from inside of him, deep down inside where he never looks, now it’s brighter than a quasar, a sudden burst of light and energy flowing up and <em>out out out.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam barely has a moment to think that somehow the test has triggered something that was left behind. A thing hidden deep inside Sam’s mind that he didn’t even know for sure was there. It’s not the same as being jacked up on demon blood, or even containing an archangel, or possessed by a demon, it’s all of that and even more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s not sure if this power is Azazel, Lucifer, Gadreel or Chuck related, or even Rowena or Crowley, so in a panic he struggles and strains at controlling the overwhelming surges of energy pulsing through his body. It’s too much, he’s already exhausted, he has nothing left to stop this power from getting out. He does the only thing that might help, he eventually manages to shut himself down. Basically Sam causes himself to become catatonic, non-responsive to the world. It’s so similar to how it was after he’d come back to the Cage, just shutting himself down, folding himself up into a little bit of nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam knows it’s going to freak Dean the fuck out to come back to the hospital and find him in this state, but there’s nothing else he can do. If he hurts anyone in the hospital, then Dean will know for sure that he’s a monster, and then what? Dean’s just going to be happy as ever to settle down in a cozy retirement with his monster of a brother, or more accurately his brother who is a monster?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All of this flashes through Sam’s mind as the MRI machine unwinds and unmakes itself from all around him, the big magnets blowing apart into bits, pulverizing all the glass and everything around them. The medical personnel all ducking and running for cover. He hopes they’re not hurt, and he hopes Dean forgives him. He didn’t ever want his powers to come back. Sure as hell, not like this. That’s the last thing he thinks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean is already most of the way to the hospital when his cell rings, it’s the nurses station calling him. Sam’s had an incident during the test is all they’ll say over the phone. He walks as fast as he can manage the last of the long block to the hospital. Sam’s already back in his room and the nurses won’t meet his eyes as he walks past their station. Not a good sign.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, it was—we don’t really know what happened,” Nurse Betty tells him from Sam’s bedside.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did he get hurt in the machine or something?” Dean asks, trying not to growl or scream at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, the machine basically came apart, it’s in pieces, but it didn’t hurt him physically.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did anyone else get hurt?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, but very minor cuts, thank goodness they were all in the operator room so they were pretty safe even though the window blew up. The rest of the room is demolished,” Betty says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s Dr. Birney’s got to say?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He couldn’t—he wouldn’t write it down, he said he wasn’t even sure what to write. He seemed really shook up to me,” Betty says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is he still here?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, he’s finishing morning rounds. I’ll have him come see you asap,” Betty says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Betty,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s going to be okay, Dean. All his vitals are strong as ever, and Sam’s not really in a coma, at least not a normal one. It’s…something else,” Betty says as she leaves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can tell by the look on her face that something very strange has happened. He’s pretty sure fancy expensive hospital machines don’t just break apart, something has caused this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean pulls up his usual chair to the side of Sam’s bed. He takes Sam’s limp hand in his own. “What the hell happened, Sammy? Where’d you go? Can you come back and tell me?” It seems like Sam’s body changes when he asks that question, like it hums or vibrates a little differently. Before he can figure it out, Dr. Birney is there.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hey, you probably want the explanation of what happened. And I’m sorry to say, I don’t really know. One-second the test is going fine, no issues at all with either Sam or the machine, and in the next moment, everything just blew apart.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can tell Dr. Birney is still shaken up and seems to have some blood and bits of machinery in his silvery hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve got a little, yeah…uh, right there,” Dean says, pointing at the junk in Dr. Birney’s normally pristine grey-black waves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sam is okay though, there’s no change in his vitals. He’s just in this state, I wouldn’t term it a coma, because he’s responsive to the usual physical stimuli.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But you haven’t checked his brain waves or anything, right?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No…uh, we didn’t want to do that quite yet, until we—” Dr. Birney says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You didn’t want to just risk another of your machines, yeah I get it doc,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not sure what to tell you here, Dean. As far as I can tell, Sam is just as fine as he was when he went into the testing room, no physical changes at least, and it was a miracle he didn’t get hurt in that room. The scale of the damage was really something. The machine basically disintegrated all around him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How do you mean?” Dean asks, his spidey-senses tingling that this is where it gets too interesting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“After the MRI finished exploding or whatever it was that was happening, the debris fell in a perfect circle all around him. It was almost like he was protected somehow. It didn’t make sense,” Dr. Birney says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We get that a lot, believe it or not,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll check in with you later,” Dr. Birney says, “I’m going to go put in a call to the manufacturer of that MRI. I think the hospital needs to get our money back that thing was practically brand new.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, doc,” Dean says, turning his attention back to Sam. If he's responsive physically but not responding verbally, what did that mean? Was it something Sam was choosing somehow? Maybe it was a self-protective thing he’d done when the machine went wrong.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>It’s only been a few hours, but Dean’s already feeling at his wit’s end to bring his brother the rest of the way back to him. Dr. Birney had basically said there was nothing that he could do to help Sam. The medical staff all seem a little wary too, which is not a bit surprising after all the damage to the fMRI exam room and all the people in it. Especially the bit about the debris being in a circle all around Sam, that would definitely freak people out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he sits at Sam’s side, holding his brother’s hand through the side rails of the hospital bed, Dean is wracking his brain for something that might help, there’s got to be something back in the bunker, maybe in one of the spell books, because what happened in that testing room, it was pretty likely that Sam somehow made it happen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wish I could get into your head somehow and just ask you. You’re such a big nerd you probably already have the whole damn thing figured out,” Dean says. “You didn’t happen to pack any African Dream Root in your witchy spell kit did you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam doesn’t answer, but Dean can swear he can fell Sam smiling. That’s when Dean remembers the last time he’d gone into someone else’s head, it hadn’t been Dream Root that time. It had been the British Men of Letters, fucking Toni and her delta-wave machine when he’d gotten into his mom’s head. What a trip that had been, it’d been hard to get over what he’d seen in there. It was probably going to be even worse in Sam’s head. But he had to do it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean was dialing his phone before he could even talk himself out of it. “Cas, you need to come here, and bring that rig that Toni used to get me into Mom’s head. It’s in the first storage room next to the dungeon. There should be a vial of hypnotic sedative.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why do you need this, Dean? I thought you weren’t hunting?” Cas asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s Sam, something happened at the hospital during a test. It’s like he just exploded everything, he’s just…not in there in his body, but he’s also not gone,” Dean says, his voice breaking so he shuts himself up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not there, I see,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m signing him out of the hospital, we’ll be home in an hour I hope,” Dean says, trying to steady his voice and himself for the next steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jack and I will come, we will find the machine and bring it to you,” Cas says, hanging up the phone, brutally abrupt as usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean clutches the phone to his ear and wishes or prays or whatever you want to call it, <em>please let this work and help me help Sam, please</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It takes a few hours, but Dean springs Sam from the hospital, after signing all the papers that make him agree to not hold anyone responsible at the hospital for his own crazy decisions. They arrange for an ambulance and EMT’s to transfer Sam back into his bed at home. A bunch of equipment, monitors and IV stuff and a home health nurse show up too, which means they probably do feel some guilt in their blackened corporate hearts.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Cas and Jack arrive almost immediately after Dean’s finally gotten Sam all settled in his bedroom. Thank goodness the angel and the nephilim can still travel at will instead of having to drive or fly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks for coming so fast,” Dean says, giving each of them a quick one-armed hug, “Guess we should get this party started.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are glad to have the invitation to visit, although it is under these grim and trying circumstances,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s happy we can help, is what he means,” Jack translates, “And so am I,and by the way. We can do this, Dean, I know we can help Sam.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean nods, not sure what this feeling is welling up in his chest, the worry of taking this on by himself relieved by the presence of his friends. He nods to both of them and then looks down at Sam’s still form on the bed. His brother looks so small somehow, like his soul isn’t there and he’s taking up less physical space. It’s not true, it can’t be, he would know right? But it seems as likely an answer as anything else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sam looks so…small. Was he well before the thing that happened at the hospital?” Jack asks, his hand smoothing down the curls of Sam’s wild hair fanned out on the pillow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was doing pretty well with all the treatments, and his doctor was looking for which steps to take next. That’s why we were having him tested, that’s when it all went wrong. But I see what you’re talking about. It’s almost like he’s smaller because he’s not really in there,” Dean says. “Jack, can you check on him, can you tell if his soul still in there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack holds one hand over Sam’s stomach in the same place where Cas had checked for the presence of his brother’s soul all those years ago. “No, that’s not it, his soul is still there, Dean, don’t worry. Sam’s still in there, I mean in his body. But…I don’t know how to describe it, it’s like he's shut himself down somehow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He probably did it to protect people, I bet he knew that something was going wrong in the hospital. All the doctors and nurses ended up being okay, but everything that was breakable in the testing room—it broke apart, smashed to little bits and pieces, all in a circle around him,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s got to be the power he has that I could never figure out. It was something I could always tell Sam had this extra thing that other humans don’t have, but I wasn’t sure if he already knew or if he would want to know. So I never said anything to him, I should have,” Jack says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is this like the powers he had when Ruby and the de…” Dean starts to ask, trailing off before he has to say all the words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Dean, this is not like that situation. The dormant powers Sam has always had, are not demon blood related at all. The demon blood is completely absent from his system, it has been ever since he undertook the Trials,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean nods, feeling instantly relieved at hearing Cas’ statement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m worried that Sam will refuse to come out, that he’ll know somehow how much destruction happened at the hospital,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We will create a pocket, out of time, so that this room will be by itself, and no harm will come to anyone outside of it,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You can do that?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, we’ve been practicing, and we’re pretty good at it,” Jack says, smiling at both of them. Cas nods at him and flashes a quick smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty cool, dude,” Dean says, smiling back at Jack. He’s grown up so fast and learned so much, becoming more of an ally than Dean had ever imagined he could be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now remember, Dean. This machine is not perfect, you might end up in a part of Sam’s mind that is not where you need to be. You will probably seethings that you would rather not see,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, believe me I know, my brother’s head is a dark and scary place. How could it not be at this point, right? I’ll be okay in there, he’ll know it’s me. We’ve got a system,” Dean says, nodding at them to get it started. He twines his hand into Sam’s, squeezing it gently and murmurs under his breath so that only Sam can hear him, “I’m coming for you, Sammy, hang in there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As soon as Dean lays down on the bed next to Sam, Jack and Cas get the delta wave machine all set up, the leads attached to Dean’s and Sam’s heads in approximately the right places. They give Dean the injection and he passes out very quickly.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>It takes them a while to master the controls, but once Jack and Cas get the thing working correctly, Dean goes off spiraling into Sam’s mind. Just as they had planned, Jack and Cas work together to create a containment force field around Sam and Dean, just in case something goes wrong like it did back at the hospital. All they can do is sit and watch over the two men on the bed and hope for the best that it will work.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you think they figured themselves out?” Jack asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It does not seem so, unfortunately,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe this will help them,” Jack says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We will live in hope for that day,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>The feeling of spiraling into the dark overwhelms Dean as the sedative takes hold. He tries his best to keep the thought of reaching Sam in the center of his mind, concentrating on his hope that he can help his brother. The darkness finally begins to give way to something else, just grey outlines at first that then snap into technicolor sharpness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam is here, but where are they, why does Sam look like absolute shit? Crowley is there too, tied to a chair, passed out from the injections. It’s that old church, the one where he’d almost lost Sam to the final Trial.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can see that Sam is pacing around, obviously worried out of his mind, this must have been when he was gone, getting jerked around by angels as per usual.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sam?” Dean calls out from the church doorway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam doesn’t respond, just continues pacing between Crowley and the table where he has the needles. He’s checking his watch every few steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam stops and whips around to face him. “What are you doing here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m trying to find the real you, here in your mind,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’d I fuck up this time? Must be pretty bad if you’re trawling through my mind,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s nothing you’ve done wrong, but I think there’s something you haven’t told me about still having powers.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s not a thing I’m ever talking about with you. You don’t need anymore reasons to write me off as a lost cause.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not a lost cause, You never have been, not to me,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam scoffs and then spits on the floor near Crowley’s chair. “Tell that to the version of me you called a monster.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That was the demon blood, I know that, you know that, we’re past that,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’ve got a hell of a way showing it. Far as I know, from what you just said out in the church parking lot, you still hold that as one of my biggest fuck-ups, which it is, part of a very long list of all the ways I’ve let you down.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sam, I’ve got one of those lists too,” Dean says. “I feel like I’ve been letting you down your entire life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do?” Sam asks, face transforming from pain to utter surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, of course, but I’m never going to stop trying to do right by you, no matter what it takes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s Dean’s turn for utter surprise. “Really?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam shakes his head and kind of deflates. “You don’t believe me, of course not.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do though, that’s the thing, I get that now. I’m sorry I’m such an ass about this stuff, Sammy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam freezes. “You haven’t called me that in so long. I thought it meant you didn’t care about me the same way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy, can you help me find the real you? Any idea where I should go?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sighs and shrugs, turning back to the table of needle injectors. “I don’t get out of here much, but try one of the doors down the hall.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean steps up behind him and hugs this Sam who is hurting so much. “When I come in here for real, just listen to me, okay? I mean every damn word I say.” He lets go and walks past the still form of Crowley out the church door and into a long hallway. It reminds him of the main hallway in the bunker, tiled halfway up, cool lights above light the way to the next door. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open and walks through.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Right onto a rainy dock. Sam is leaning against the railing, his head in his hands. Cas is down at the other end giving him space. Sam’s whole back is heaving and Dean can hear him crying. Dean steps on to the creaky dock, wincing at the noise his steps make as he moves towards Sam. He puts a hand on Sam’s back and waits for him to respond.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re not him, why are you here?” Sam asks without looking up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can see him struggling to wipe the tears from his face. It doesn’t matter much because it’s raining pretty hard now. “You’re right, I’m looking for the real you though. It’s important.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As important as leaving me here? Not being a big enough man to stay and own up to your mistakes. Saying some bullshit about how you’re poison and just leaving me after what you did!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy, one of my biggest regrets in my whole life is what I just did to you. I should have stayed and listened to you. Instead I left and made the worst mistake—I mean, you can’t even imagine what’s coming next.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How could it possibly be worse than this?” Sam asks, despair etched in every line of his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It just is, trust me. And I’m sorry, you have no idea how sorry I am that I wasn’t here for you like I should have been. But if I don’t find you, the real you in here, then it’s maybe going to be even worse.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There are a lot of us in here, Dean. They’re all the versions of us that are holding all this bad stuff in here so we can still be a functioning human being out there. At least in our theory anyway.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are, you’re doing so well right now, Sammy out there. You and me, we are so happy out there. I mean, I think you are, I know I sure as hell am. What I’m saying is—give me another chance, when I finally apologize. It’ll all turn out okay, it takes a while, but we fit ourselves back together eventually.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It seems impossible,” Sam says in such a low voice Dean can barely hear the pain that colors every syllable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It does at this point, I’m sure it does. But you get through it, and I eventually figure out how much of an asshole I was to you when you needed me most. I swear I’m spending the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Sam asks with the barest amount of hope it makes Dean’s heart clench with the knowledge of how close he’d come to losing it all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, really, Sammy, you and me, we’re making a life out there right now. And I need to find the real you in here to make sure it all keeps going the way it should. You don’t deserve to be stuck in here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you go further down the hall, you’ll find me,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean gathers this broken apart Sam into his arms and hugs him for a long moment. “This is what I should have done instead of walking away. I should have held you and just let you scream at me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam melts into him and Dean tries to keep it together. If only he could go back and do this for real in that awful moment instead of just in Sam’s mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Promise me something, Dean?” Sam asks, his voice a whisper against the side of Dean’s neck.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean shivers with the feeling of his brother’s lips moving against his skin. “Anything, yeah, of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“When you see me, the real me, hug me like this, okay? It’s never enough, never too much, I always want it even when I seem like I don’t.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will, Sammy, I promise I will, every chance I get.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean finally lets him go, reluctant to leave him all over again. But Sam points towards the door and tries his best to smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean returns the attempted smile and heads off the dock and through the doorway. He can see at least three more doors and considers whether to just walk straight to the last door. There’s no telling if these are in order or anything like that, the real Sam could be anywhere. The other two doors he’s been through are glowing a different color green so he can at least see where he’s already been. Onto the next door then, he takes a deep breath to steady himself for whichever Sam comes next.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This Sam is in his bedroom in the bunker. He’s got his right arm in the familiar sling, his hair is greasy and lank, covering his eyes. There’s a mostly empty bottle of Jack on the bedside table.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What are you doing here, you can’t be here?” Sam asks in a drunken slur.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean comes into the room and sits next to Sam’s hip on the bed. “I’m looking for you, for the real you. You’re stuck in here and I’m trying to help.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Trying to help, that’s hilarious,” Sam laughs, broken and cracking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you so drunk? This isn’t like you,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because you’re a goddamn demon!” Sam yells, sitting up in the bed, eyes blazing with anger. “I know I should give up, I’ve already gone too far, and even if I get you back you’ll hate me for what I’ve done.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I could never hate you, Sammy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have before, and you don’t know what I’ve done,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re doing what you have to, to get me back, even though I don’t deserve it, that’s what you’ve done. And I know it seems like it’s not worth it, but it is, no matter what I tell you when I’m a demon. You fix me, Sammy, you save me, just like always.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, and I try to thank you and you won’t let me,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sounds like me,” Sam says.</p>
<p>“That’s for sure,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why’d you do it, Dean? Why’d you leave me?” Sam asks, in a heart breaking honest slur.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t know it was going to work like this, when I took the Mark from Cain. I didn’t know shit about it, and I was an idiot and didn’t stop to ask, and it’s all my fault. Not your fault, it was never yours, Sammy. And you’re the only thing that made sense when I was a demon, that’s why I’ve stayed away.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I make sense?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You and me, Sam. We’re soulmates, remember? And that didn’t change, even when I was a demon. My soul was corrupted, but it was still hooked up to yours. It was like you were in color and everything else was in black and white.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just want you back, want you back with me so bad, Dean. I can’t handle all this by myself, it doesn’t mean shit to me without you here,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cut it out, you can do this and you will do it. You’ll see, it will work out, and when I’m back, let me apologize, okay? Because I really mean it and you deserve the apology.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll try, Dean. Just come back to me, please,” Sam begs, eyes filling with tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean scoops him up into his arms, being extra careful of Sam’s injury. “I will come back to you, and it’ll be hard for a while between us, really hard, but we get through it together. I need you to believe me, Sammy, you’re the only one I’d come back for.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, one and only, like you said, it doesn’t mean shit without you around. I don’t care what you do to get me back. It means the fucking world to me that you’d even bother to try after what I did to you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d never be able to leave you stuck like this, Dean,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, and I can’t leave you stuck in here, can you help me find you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s no map that I know about, just keep going down the hall. I’m not much help, sorry,” Sam says, still holding on to Dean with one arm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean doesn’t want to pull away from this Sam who needs him so much. “You’re so fucking strong, Sam, you’re amazing. You pull all of this off with only one arm, and you forgive me which I’ll never understand as long as I live.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam hugs him even harder with his one arm, his face buried in Dean’s neck. “Of course I do, like we said, it doesn’t mean shit without each other. Now go find the real me. Fix it like I know you can.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean finally lets him go, but just before his hands leave Sam’s body, he lifts them to Sam’s face, gently swiping away the tears. “Thanks for believing I’m worth saving.” He leaves before Sam can say anything, hustling himself out the door and down the hall to the next door. Only one left after this one. Sam sure has a lot of versions of himself roaming around in his memories.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The door opens on a suburban street with a familiar house lit up across the lawn. There’s a tall figure, standing still and watching the big window like it’s a flat-screen HD television.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re here, but you’re in there, how?” Soulless Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For a soulless asshole, you sure don’t know much,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck you,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right back atcha pal,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m thinking of going in there, upsetting your perfect apple cart,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Go for it, save me the trouble of doing it myself,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re kidding, right? You’ve finally got the whole shebang, wife, kid, house, even a fucking garage.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not what I want though,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And what’s that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My brother, all the way back from Hell, or even you like you are now, just part of the way back. Why aren’t you going in there, Sam? At least let me know that you’re back? I know you can’t care, but I’m in there going seriously crazy at this point.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right, I don’t or can’t care. But I also remember what you promised me before I jumped in that hole in the ground. You promised that you’d try to have a life without me. And there you are, giving it your best try. It’s kind of cute actually.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m not though, I’m just screwing those people up and they don’t deserve the shit I’m bringing into their lives. All I want is you, Sam, that’s never going to change. Soulless or not I’d rather have you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Soulless Sam asks with an arched eyebrow.</p>
<p>“You’re so much of a soulless automaton that you don’t even know that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Guess it’s something you need a soul for, and like we already agreed, I don’t or can’t care.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d forgotten how exhausting you were. Hey, any idea on where I can find the real Sam in here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is not well organized enough in here,” Sam sniffs disapprovingly. “If I was in charge, it would be a different matter.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck off, dude, this is Sam’s head.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it is, so why are you here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t want to be, believe me. But Sam’s stuck in here, and I need to get him out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What if he wants to be in here? You’re just going to show up and tell him what to do like always?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No…it’s not like that, not this time. It’s up to him, I guess I’m just checking that he knows he has more options. He has a whole life to live out there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe he’s happier in here, you ever think of that?” Soulless Sam sneers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Dean asks, heart almost thudding to a stop.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He hides so much from you, all the things he really wants and can never ask for, they can all be fulfilled in here without consequence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not why I’m here, not to find out what he’s hiding from me. I’ve got stuff I hide from him, part of being human and having a soul, big guy,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think you should be on your way,” Sam says, pointing back towards the open door. He turns back to watching Lisa’s house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can see himself through the window staring down into a whisky glass while they all try to pretend to have a normal family dinner. “I wish I’d looked up right at this moment and seen you standing out here. Everything would have been so different.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What would you have done?” Soulless Sam asks with a curious tilt of his head, eyes flinty and cold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’d have run out here and hugged you and never let go, no matter what the hell you did,” Dean said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Huh, I probably would have been unable to resist that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, even soulless dudes can figure out the obvious eventually,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What, that you obviously want to fuck me?” Soulless Sam asks with another sneer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the hell?” Dean splutters in surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Soulless Sam just leans back and laughs. Dean takes that chance to head out the door towards whatever comes next. There’s not point in talking to the soulless asshole.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>There’s only one door left and then a blank nothingness past it, the hallway of doors he’s been through behind him glow with that green he noticed before. Just this one last door and then what? He hopes the sedative stuff Cas and Jack injected him with isn’t going to wear off too fast, this whole thing seems like it’s taking an incredibly long time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He pulls open the last door and finds himself in a busy bus station. He hears the Impala pulling away and sees Sam pressed up against the front window of the station. He watches as Sam watches him leave. In that moment, all Dean wants to do is to run in the other direction, but he makes himself stay. Eventually, Sam turns away from the window and slumps down into one of the waiting chairs. He’s fiddling with stuff in his duffel bag, so he doesn’t see Dean watching him. Dean slides into the seat next to him and waits to be noticed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam sits up and slowly turns to stare at him. “You’re not Dean, why do you look like him, but really old?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nice to see you too,” Dean says. “I’m in here looking for the real you. Any pointers on—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No way, this is how you look in the future or something? I have no fucking chance do I?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What do you mean? You’re heading off to Stanford with a full scholarship. You have all the chances in the world right now, Sammy,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m leaving because it’s my only option. If I stay, you’ll find out, you’ll know, and then I can’t…I don’t know what you’ll do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That doesn’t make much sense, but then teenaged Sam had always been really hard to figure out. “Well, right now, I’m in that car driving away from you, crying my eyes out and screaming until I’m hoarse for like a week. I stay dead drunk for probably a month or two, I’m not really sure exactly. Then Dad leaves me because I’m useless. That’s what I’m doing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Sam asks with this full-body shock that it just about kills Dean to see.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God, every fucking time,” Dean says with a snarl that this Sam definitely doesn’t deserve.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam recoils at the vehemence in Dean’s voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, it’s been a long day running around in your head, dude. But yes, really, I was completely wrecked when you left me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t leave you, Dean. I just wanted to go to college. And I didn’t want you to know about me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Know what?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not for me to say, if you don’t know by now, when you’re this old, I’m guessing that I’ve never felt comfortable enough to tell you or maybe I grew out of it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s so big a secret that you’d just leave like you did? The rest of my life, I’m always expecting you’re going to do it again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I doubt that very much,” Sam says, looking Dean up and down so slowly Dean feels like he’s had a thorough physical hands-on exam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What the hell is that look in Sam’s eyes anyway, because he sure as hell can’t place it. It’s so fucking confusing in here, he needs to get out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If we’re together again somehow, then I’d never want to be anywhere else, believe me,” Sam says, still giving him that look.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean hears the dramatic teenaged voice Sam used to pull out on him every now and then and smiles. “You know so little at this point, god I wish you could go back here where you’re all innocent and try it all again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, you don’t, you’re still a goddamn liar,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re right, I’d hate that, but I know I should want that for you. To get out, to have a real life, instead of what ends up happening.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, if I end up being with you during this ‘unreal life’ I end up having, then that’s what I wanted.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This where I get to be mad at you for asking dumb questions?” Sam asks with a familiar teasing grin.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you wanted to be with me, then why’d you leave like this, Sammy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I wanted to give you a chance, to have a life without your weirdo little brother holding you back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You haven’t though, if anything I’ve held you back,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, c’mon you know me, I’m stubborn as hell, and if I’m still with you at your advanced age, it means I want to be.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean looks deep into this young Sam’s eyes and sees he’s telling the truth. There’s still something he’s missing, and this Sam isn’t going to give it to him. “I need to find you, Sammy, the real you. It’s important.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know I’m not going to be happy that you came in here, right?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I do, of course. But there wasn’t any other way, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it. I know I wasn’t meant to hear all this from all of you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good answer, I’ll tell you how to get to me, but first, can I ask you for one thing?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure, anything,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you give me a real goodbye, like I know you wanted to,” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean remembers then, how he’d made himself stay in the car, not get out and hug the life out of his little brother. Even though he’d felt like he was full of razor blades and nails, a time bomb about to explode and take everything out with shrapnel. He’d had to get away from Sam before he messed up and screwed up his brother one more time. This time though, he can do it like he should have, how he’d wanted to back then. Well…not exactly, but it’ll have to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You mean something like this?” Dean asks, sweeping Sam up out of the plastic waiting seat into his arms. Sam’s his height almost exactly but Dean still has him up off of his toes somehow. Sam’s grabbing onto him like it’s for life, like it’s for the last time or the first time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m going to miss you so much, Sammy. But I’m so damn proud of you, I feel like I could bust. You’re amazing, little brother, you’re going to have a fucking amazing life.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s all because of you, Dean. I never could have gotten here without you. I know I never said thank you enough, and I gave you shit for all the mother-henning you did, but that’s why I’m able to even do this. You gave me this chance, Dean, and you were strong enough to let me leave. If you’d said or done anything here tonight, I would have stayed or even worse, I would have begged you to come with me. But you let me go, just like you were supposed to. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean wants to die at those words, it sure hadn’t felt like it had been his choice to let Sam leave. But was Sam right, had he really been strong enough to do the right thing and chosen that?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I feel like I’ve been letting you go my whole life, while I’m trying to hold onto you at the same time,” Dean admits, surprising himself with this deep truth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honestly, Dean, same here. Listen, if you want the real me, if I remember right, you have to run through the end of the hallway. Even though it seems like nothing, it’s there, I’m in there. Go, now before you wake up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean says, kissing the side of Sam’s head like he used to. This young Sam looks at him with complete shock and holds a hand to the side of his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bye, Dean,” Sam says, pointing towards the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean steps through backwards, eyes never leaving young Sam’s. Once he’s through he turns towards the nothingness at the end of the long hallway and starts running, flat out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As he runs towards the blankness before him he thinks about how they’re all in there, all those different Sams are behind him. It had seemed like they all wanted a chance to break Dean’s heart by telling him things he wasn’t ever supposed to know about his brother’s innermost thoughts and feelings. It all felt so damn invasive, a million times worse than reading Sam’s journals, and he knows there’s a pretty big chance that Sam might never forgive him for doing this, but he has to try. He keeps running through the nothingness, panting hard at the exertion. Sam has got to know by now that this is just part of how Dean has always taken care of him. Trying too much, going too far is always the core issue of course, but then they both do that (over and over again).</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Finally the nothingness turns into something else, he runs through it, feeling it catch at his skin, slowing his body down like he’s trying to run through a cotton candy cloud. He slows his run down to a determined stroll. There’s something new ahead, the almost something-ness turning into a thing he feels he should recognize. When Dean steps through it into this last place he hasn’t already searched in Sam’s mind, it’s like passing through a bead curtain that’s also somehow a leather, whisky and engine oil scented cloud.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His eyes clear and adjust through the haze that separates this place from all the others. Everything seems to be more in focus in here, more real and intense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The real Sam is living in a house quite like the one they currently live in, but it’s nicer, and bigger. He has a huge library of course, the shelves filled with all his favorites brought from the bunker as well as all his entire serial killer collection. His Sam, the real Sam is sitting in a big comfy chair and a half, with a faithful dog sitting there on the floor just waiting for Sam to take him out for a walk. Dean hates that he has to take Sam away from this beautiful fantasy life, but he needs him out there in the real world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before he intrudes or makes himself known to Sam, he sees a version of himself walk into the room. Or at least how he’s represented in Sam’s safe space retreat inside Sam’s mind. He’s as young as he was when he’d ripped Sam away from Stanford, he’s wearing Dad’s leather coat even though it’s two sizes too big and they’re inside. His face is unlined, his hair brown and blonde with none of the gray he has now. He watches as his younger self sits and reads with Sam, cuddled up together in the big chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At some point he sees his younger self get up and come back with a tray of Sam’s favorite foods, all the stuff Dean makes for him when he’s being extra nice for some reason. Vegetables in everything, a big salad, a freakin’ green smoothie even. And Sam’s face, his smile—he’s just beaming with delight as they eat together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean watches the younger version of himself with Sam and feels…what is it, embarrassed? No, that’s not it, he’s—jealous of the guy, He’s jealous of himself, Sam’s version of him. Dean wants to be the one to do that, to be that with Sam, he always has and has never let himself go there. If this is Sam’s happy and safe place in his very own head, then that must mean that Sam wants all of that too. What would happen if he offered that to Sam in here in his mind? Would that be enough to get Sam back into the real world?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean knows Sam is going to be mad that he’s invaded his head like this, but Dean also knows that Sam will understand how far they go for each other is a given in the equation of their lives at this point. <em>Too far</em> is the answer. He waits for his younger doppelgänger to leave the library room before approaching Sam.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh…hey, Sammy, sorry to interrupt, but here I am. And yes, it’s me, really me,” Dean says, hesitant and halting because this could go wrong so fast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam looks up with alarm. “You’re not supposed to be in here,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know, I know I’m not, and I swear it wasn’t to pry or snoop or whatever, I’m worried about you on the outside.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What’s going on outside?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re in not exactly a coma, but like a non-responsive state, catatonic or something like that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All I remember is doing the fMRI, and a really bright light, then I was in here, and it seemed like the best thing to stay for a while,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I think the test triggered your powers or something like that. You broke the freakin’ machine, dude!” Dean says, oddly proud of that fact.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You say that like it’s a good thing,” Sam says, frowning and drawing in on himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not, of course not, but you’re…amazing at this stuff, and you’re so badass they can’t even figure you out.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You need to get me out of there,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where, out of the hospital?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it’s not safe,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t it be safe? You mean for you?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I’ll probably be fine, it’s other people who aren’t safe. Because of me, I’m going to hurt more people if you don’t take me away somewhere,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I already did, you’re at home in your own bed right now. There’s only me lying next to you and Cas and Jack are there too and they’re making a containment field just in case. But can you come on out of here, and help us figure it out?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, I can’t, if I do, I’m not sure what’ll happen,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cas and Jack said that they can feel you’re powered up somehow, but they can’t figure out why. Is it something new?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, it’s the same old stuff that I’ve always had. The demon blood I was fed as a baby triggered it, but I held it back all this time,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like I said, you’re amazing at this stuff,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I was, people wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It wasn’t too bad, they’ll all be okay, hey they were already in a hospital, right?” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Still, I’m obviously not safe to be around,” Sam says. “That’s why I’m staying in here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it okay that I’m here? I really miss you,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam goes completely still and gets a strange look on his face, a little wary maybe even scared. “You never say things like that, who are you really?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s really me, Sammy, just being honest for once, seemed like a good idea. If you want, I can go back to being emotionally withholding,” Dean jokes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam relaxes and gives Dean a hesitant smile. “I miss you too, I mean as you’ve seen, you’re in here with me already of course, but I know that he’s not the real you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He seems…uh, real happy being in here with you,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I guess I made him—you, that way,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am happy though, for real—with you, out there in the real world. You do know that, right?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you though?” Sam asks.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“I’m sorry you don’t know that, but yeah I’m happy, everyday I’m glad we’re still together. After everything we’ve been through, it seems like a freakin’ miracle,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It does?” Sam asks, eyes going round in wonder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It does, yeah, it’s fucking everything to me that we’re still together. I don’t know if I can explain it, Sammy. But seeing your setup in here, I’ll be honest, I was jealous of him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait…what? You were jealous of who?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Him…the me you have in here,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why—I mean, I would have thought you’d be pissed or disgusted or both,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nope, it gave me hope actually, once I got over being jealous,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hope for what?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For us, for when you’re back with me out there in the real world, hope that maybe we could try that…you know, being like that,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re just saying that to make me feel better about you seeing my deepest darkest secret,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The only thing I have to say to that is <em>Poughkeepsie</em>,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not…that’s not fair, Dean! I can’t go out there, not yet, what if I hurt you?” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You won’t, Sammy, I know you won’t and so do you. C’mon, let’s go, dude, Let’s go give this thing a try,” Dean says offering Sam a hand up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam looks up at him like he used to when he was kid, like Dean had all the answers. Dean doesn’t know if he really does, that unsureness is the fire behind all his bluffing certainty. It’s always been a show at first, a one-man show performed for just one man, but this time, he’s got to believe they can do this because there’s nothing else left to try. Sam nods and tries to smile, breaking Dean’s heart at the same time he is filled with the most hope he’s had in a few days.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Dean quickly spirals back out through the wet and dark curtain that separates Sam’s head from the world, landing back in his own body. He can feel Sam’s hand is still in his, but from how still it feels, he can tell that Sam hasn’t come back with him—yet. His eyes open and search Cas and Jack’s for clues, but they both shrug. Dean can feel the containment field or whatever it is that surrounds the bed he and Sam are laying on top of, the energy of the field pushing at him gentle but urgent somehow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I got to him, I think. So I guess be ready or whatever,” Dean says in a muddled voice, trying to shake off the aftereffects of the sedative and whatever else was in that concoction.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is Sam okay?” Jack asks, voice small and childish. A reminder that he really is still a child in so many ways.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, he was trying to keep everyone else safe, just like I thought. I told him you guys were here, and you’d help him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We will stand at the ready, until he returns,” Cas says with that solemn grim voice that always sends a chill down Dean’s back. There’s something about an angel making you a promise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turns on his side to face Sam, his hand still holding Sam’s. He runs his other hand through Sam’s hair, brushing it away from his forehead, or as Sam always likes to call it, his five-head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“C’mon, Sammy, get out from behind that five head of yours and come out here to tell me to stop messing with your hair. Maybe I should get the clippers out,” Dean threatens, joking of course, he’d never mess with Sam’s hair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam starts to come back to himself within a few minutes of Dean saying stuff about his hair, it’s like another magic word in the Winchester Dictionary.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It turns out to be a really good thing that Jack and Cas are still there at the ready in Sam’s room. As soon as he opens his beautiful multi colored eyes, even before he even says a single word, Sam’s power is unleashed. It bursts out of him completely untamed, raw and wild, it races around the whole room in a bare instant, upending everything that isn’t nailed down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean feels a push, it feels like the physical version of someone yelling Get Away From Me! He loses his grip on Sam’s hand and is thrown across the room. He can feel the bright pain of his head hitting the corner of Sam’s desk hard and the knockout black curtain falls.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Sam’s energy spikes, Cas is pinned to the highest part of the bedroom ceiling, unable to move or even speak. His eyes are as wild as his hair, getting tossed around in the wind created from the push and press of Sam’s energy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack barely manages to keep his hold on to the end of Sam’s bed, and gets a hand clamped onto Sam’s bare ankle. He closes his eyes and connects with the Sam inside, the one who is behind the awful force of raw energy. He uses both the physical and mental connection to channel a small part of Sam’s energy into himself. As he pulls it away, his eyes glow yellow-white with the increase in power.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once Sam’s power is dialed back a bit, Cas falls to the floor with a crash and scrambles to get his hand on Sam’s bare arm. He does the same thing as Jack, connecting with Sam and then pulling some of the excess power away from Sam into himself. His eyes glow blue-white with powered-up grace.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s body begins to rise up off from his bed, the sheets and blankets falling away, his ass hanging out bare from the hospital jerry he’s wearing.</p>
<p>Jack and Cas strain to maintain their physical hold on him as he rises five feet above the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean comes to, just as they’ve almost let go. He manages to stand up and yell out, “Sammy, c’mon, you gotta stop!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s upward progress halts, his body wavering like it’s pulling against gravity and some other equal force.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean staggers over to climb up onto the bed, struggling to stand on it against the wall of energy that Sam’s still putting out. “Sammy, please, you can do this, I know you can.” Dean gets his hand on one of Sam’s, laces their fingers together and tugs it down to his own lips. He says the same thing over and over again into Sam’s skin, his lips moving and brushing against the thrumming energy coming off of his brother. “Let me help you, please, Sammy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s fingers tighten around Dean’s, the skin Dean’s lips are touching flares with a burst of energy that feels soft and powerful at the same time, Dean inhales it, brings it into himself. It’s Sam in pure form, somehow it’s Sam inside him, warming him from the inside out. Sam is feeding the energy into Dean, no it’s more like Dean is siphoning it off, taking it down past the danger *overload* level. He can feel it as it swirls through his body, invisibly rearranging the organization of his cells, making a place for itself. Whatever it is, it is part of Sam, and Dean is entirely okay with that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve got you now, Sammy. You’re inside me, you’re safe, you’re home. C’mon little brother, wake up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s body floats down until it rests on the bed again, Dean following, still holding Sam’s hand up to his mouth. He can see Sam’s eyelids contract, squeezing tighter and then they spring open, like shutters rolling up with an almost audible bang. His brother’s eyes are startled, wide open, and Dean feels himself fall into them all over again, just like he did the first time baby Sam had really looked at him. This time he knows more of what’s inside of Sam, what Sam’s capable of, what they’re really here for.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy,” Dean says, hand still tangled up with Sam’s, warm and pulsing with the remnants of the energy that had just transferred into him. “Welcome back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I didn’t go anywhere,” Sam mumbles, lips dry and sticky.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean fumbles for a cup with a straw and places it to Sam’s lips. He drinks deeply and relaxes into the pillow, his eyes dancing with a million questions, pink lips pressed into a firm line.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are you looking at me like that?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You…you were there, in my head, you said our word,” Sam says, not accusing, just lightly making an observation, almost curious sounding.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was in there, yeah, and I used our codeword to get you back out here with the rest of us. Jack and Cas helped calm down some of your energy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You did too, I felt myself, go into you, I can still feel it. I’m in there—in you. I can see—” Sam says. “Oh god, Dean, you’re—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?” Dean asks, gripping Sam’s shoulders in worry that something else has gone wrong.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam looks up at him, eyes open wide and blazing with intensity. “I want to say beautiful, but that’s not quite right. No, what I can see in you, it’s more like this intricate complexity, the depth of feelings, the interconnections between us, maybe it’s our souls, I don’t know. It’s…I had no idea that you were like this inside. No, I was right the first time, you’re beautiful,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pretty sure I’m not anything special,” Dean says. “Everyone has all kinds of hidden depths. For example, I just saw for myself that you sure do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s what I mean though, because from what I can see inside Jack and Cas, it’s not the same as you, not even close. Maybe it’s because we’re humans, I’m not sure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas spoke quietly from the other side of the bed, where he was still holding on to Sam’s arm. “You are right, Sam. What you are seeing, this is what the angels and all the other beings Chuck ever created envy about humans.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever you can see inside us, Sam, it’s nothing compared to what we see inside you and Dean,” Jack said from the foot of the bed where his hand was still encircling Sam’s ankle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it just our souls?”Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think that’s most of the difference,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And the whole soulmate thing,” Jack says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ahem…that falls into the ‘goes without saying’ category, remember, Jack?” Cas asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean scowls a little and Sam laughs, sparkling and bright in a room that had seemed filed with dire despair just an hour ago. “Yeah, so let’s go back to that—not saying thing,” Dean grumbles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s just an accepted and apparently observable fact about us, Dean. They don’t mean anything by it, right guys?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas and Jack nod instead of saying anything. A wise move in Dean’s opinion. He grunts to accept all of it, he doesn’t want to talk about this, especially not with an audience. If Sam insists later he totally will.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can just not talk about it later, huh?” Sam asks with a small almost smirk.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Whatever, I just want to get the doctor over here for a visit, so we can maybe get you checked out, make sure it’s okay for you to stay at home,” Dean says, trying not to notice that Sam just read his mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sounds good, I’m feeling more like myself than I have in a long time.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can you guys restart everything or get us out of this bubble or whatever you call it?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Let’s put away the MOL machine first,” Jack says, he lets go of Sam’s ankle and reaches towards Dean’s face to pull the electrodes off his skin. Cas does the same for Sam and then packs the machine up in the duffel bag they’d carried in to Sam’s room earlier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do the honors, Jack,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jack nods and does a series of complicated hand movements, there’s a slight hesitation in the world as it jerks back to normal, the pocket they’ve been inside rejoining time’s procession. The monitors the hospital had insisted Dean take home, beep, announcing Sam’s heart seems to have restarted and then evens out, it sets one of the alarms off. The home health nurse rushes in to check on Sam, which Dean is actually quite glad to see her quick response time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m okay,” Sam says to the nurse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her eyes widen when she sees the state of the demolished room, and her patient alert and talking in the bed. She checks the placement of the heart monitors and pats his chest. “Glad you’re back with us, Mr. Campbell.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s a little crowded in here for the patient, can two of you please…you know,” she motions with her thumb out the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cas and Jack both take one of Sam’s hands. “Be well, Sam,” Cas says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Glad you’re back, Sam,” Jack says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thanks for being here guys,” Sam says, looking back and forth between them. They both leave along with the nurse, crunching through the debris scattered on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What the heck were you guys doing in there? I didn’t even hear anything but that room is demolished,” the nurse says as the door closes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The room feels heavy even though it’s empty except for just them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I almost lost you—again,” Dean finally says, he sits on the edge of the bed, his hip bumping up against Sam’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s hand lands on Dean’s thigh, undeniably there, and alive. “I’m not gone, I’m right here, Dean,” Sam says. “I wouldn’t leave you like that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s not always up to us, you know that better than most,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This was…a necessary risk, and now, I think I’ve got it under control,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You think? Sammy, if that happens again, and Jack and Cas aren’t around, well—then what the hell am I supposed to do?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think you’ll be able to handle it, Dean. You were the main reason I was able to stop, not them,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The soulmate thing?” Dean asks, not elaborating any further.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam nods, probably because he knows Dean doesn’t like talking about that subject very much. For some reason, he wants to now, after what just happened, it seems necessary to be clear about all of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, that’s good to know. So I’m your Key-master now, got it,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does that make me Zuul the Gatekeeper or Gozer the Destructor in this scenario?” Sam asks with a laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh…that’s up to you I guess,” Dean says, flushing red at Sam’s suggestion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There is no Sam, only Zuuuuuul. Wonder if I can levitate whenever I want to now?” Sam jokes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, really, Sammy, if that’s what I am for you, it’s okay with me. It makes sense in a way,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How does any of this make sense to you? All of a sudden I’ve got powers again, that you can help me channel,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And I can help you because we’re soulmates. It’s all meant to be or whatever. It’s probably why we stuck together all this time,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam doesn’t respond, he goes quiet and still and almost shocked looking. He’s still breathing, and blinking, just not communicating. His face shutters, defenses coming back after all the openness. Dean wants it back, right now.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“No, that’s not what I meant, not at all. I said it wrong, I’m sorry, I suck at talking about this stuff,” Dean says in a rush. He’s relieved to see Sam’s face brighten a little, some of the tenderness coming back around his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did you mean then?” Sam asks in a voice that sounds so hesitant and unnerved, it almost doesn’t sound like Sam at all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You and me, we’re soulmates, chosen by Chuck himself to be that way, right? We’ve dealt with that for only part of our lives, for a long time we didn’t even know that little tidbit.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But we felt it anyway,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, we probably did. But think about it, Sam. Any time we’ve been separated, or tried to be with other people, what’s happened?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It sucked, either they died or worse,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know if it’s because we’re soulmates, or just two old guys stuck in a rut doing the same thing, but I don’t want to do it any differently. I want to be with you, I choose you over everything any chance I get.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Same here, but what’s that have to do with—“ Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s the difference, Sammy, that we’re choosing,” Dean says, feeling this earnest honesty well up in his chest. It’s so damn important that Sam understands this. “Ever since we found out about being Chuck’s playthings, I’d been uncertain about it all, did we really have free will, all of that. But we did have it, otherwise we wouldn’t have won, and ended up together in a little house in Colorado. Just two brothers, skipping around the edges of the Apocalypse together.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Skipping? Not with your knees, dude,” Sam says with a small smile that warms Dean up inside, Sam gets it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just like what I saw inside your noggin, let’s try that and see if it works out here in the real world,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s eyes answer him, filling with tears, blazing with unconcealed emotion. “Really, just like that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s our choice to make, right? Chuck’s gone, it’s all up to us what we do with the rest of our lives.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t want to go live in one of the other houses without me?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hell no, of course not. Without you, what are you even talking about?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That was my worst case scenario, after what you saw inside my head, that you’d want to leave,” Sam admits.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy, that’s what I’m saying, I saw all that inside you, and I want it too. When you look inside me, don’t you see it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do see it, yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I was reading it right, or if it was something you were going to keep inside. You know, keep to yourself,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like I have all this time, yeah I get why you’d think that. No, I don’t want to hide it anymore, I want it out in the open so you can see it. I’m all in, Sammy, if you want that, let’s go for it,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s face un-shutters the rest of the way, his dimples begin to form and his smile is wide, going even wider. Dean can barely stand how beautiful his brother is when he smiles like this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam leans up, pushing up onto his elbows, his lips brushing softly against Dean’s.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean feels himself sink into the feeling, he leans into Sam, pressing him back into the pillow. Sam’s hands are in his hair, turning his head into the just the right spot, he surges up, capturing the rest of Dean’s mouth. Tongue sweeping in, like Sam’s desperate to taste and to take. Dean’s hands press back a little and pulls back from the kiss, trying to slow it down, make it last. This is this very first one after all of these years of waiting after all. He wants it to count.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s making these needy little noises, nipping at Dean’s bottom lip, trying to sit up and takeover the action. Dean maneuvers himself so he’s laying on top of Sam, that will keep him down for a little bit. He uses the weight of his body to anchor Sam, to make him feel the realness of this thing that’s happening here and now between them. Sam’s hands roam all over his back, down to his ass and Dean can’t help making small thrusts into him, both of them harder than anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sammy, we need to,” Dean tries to say, murmuring the words into Sam’s frantically mobile mouth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Need you,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean groans at the thought. But the nurse is here, and maybe the doctor is coming, and Sam’s head injury and…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Need you,” Sam says again, more insistent this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean hears the door lock itself and chair slides across to brace itself under the doorknob. “Okay, okay. Just take it easy, I don’t want you to hurt your head.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My head’s fine now, it’s the rest of me that’s the problem,” Sam says, thrusting up sharply into Dean’s belly and pulling him down so he can reach his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can’t help it, he kisses Sam right back, meeting Sam’s intensity with his own. His hand travels between them, undoing his own and Sam’s jeans. He’s got them both out and gasps when their hardnesses finally touch for the first time. He can barely wrap his hand around the both of them. Sam’s moaning and chanting his name as he starts thrusting rhythmically into the tight grip of Dean’s hand. Sam breaks away from kissing Dean to lick one of his own palms and add it to cover both of them more completely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The feeling of Sam’s wet palm, that it’s rough and soft and that it’s Sam holding him, <em>holding them</em>, is all Dean can feel and think about, and he’s coming before he can say or do anything. With absolutely no warning, he’s off like a shot, emptying all over Sam’s belly. Sam scoops it up and strokes himself even faster and harder, Dean tries to help but he’s always so useless right after he comes. He can only keep kissing Sam, deep and searching, speaking the words urgent and hot into Sam’s mouth, “Come for me, Sammy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s whole body seizes, going rigid and they rise up off the bed a few inches as Sam comes all over the front of Dean’s shirt. They begin to sink down to the bed slowly before Dean has time to start flailing and freak out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That going to happen every time?” Dean grumbles into Sam’s chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam tightens his hold around Dean. “If you want it to, sure.” The door unlocks and the chair slides away from the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They fall asleep after tucking themselves away, and Dean sleeps better than he has in a month, all wrapped up together. The nurse knocks quietly after about an hour and peeks into the room. The two men are deeply asleep, and her patient looks better than he had when she saw him an hour ago. She doesn’t wake them, they look like they need the rest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s been a few weeks since Sam has been back home, and they’ve been rearranging the furniture after finally getting a new king-sized bed delivered.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If I’d only known when we bought the two full size mattresses, I would have gotten two king-sized ones,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nah, that’d take up too much space in your office,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My office?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, I figure I get the garage, you can have this room for all your books and stuff,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Can I still keep the gardening stuff in your garage?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course, it’s not going to be like that,” Dean says, pushing at the bed frame to get it into position against the wall. It catches on a floor board and he stumbles, crashing against the frame.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shit!” Dean cries as his shin scrapes against the metal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is it your knee?” Sam asks, voice full of worry.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, the bionic one’s fine, just kinda twisted the other one,” Dean says, sinking down into the chair. He wishes they’d gotten the bed in position and made up, it’d be nice to lay down and not think about all this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know you’ve got to get that one done sooner rather than later,” Sam says, kneeling in front of Dean and rolling up his jeans above his knee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m done with hospitals, Sammy, I can’t do it,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, I just don’t like seeing you in this much pain all the time,” Sam says, using the puppy eyes which is totally unfair and off limits in this situation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t…dude, that’s not cool using those on me at a time like this,” Dean protests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How about this instead,” Sam says, giving Dean his best bedroom eyes instead of the puppy dog eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That works, much more like it. Especially with Sam there, kneeling between his legs. He suddenly doesn’t give a shit about how much his knee is throbbing. Dean spreads his legs a little wider and looks down at the growing bulge between them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Looks like I better check this out,” Sam says, still with those bedroom eyes and a little smirk. He runs his hands up both of Dean’s thighs, and before Dean can overthink it, has his jeans opened up wide. Sam’s hair is tickling his belly as he licks and nips his way around, teasing Dean until he moans and puts his hand on the back of Sam’s head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s more like it,” Sam purrs against the head of Dean’s cock. He licks a few times, soft almost tentative licks, until he groans and takes Dean into his mouth in one heart stopping move.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s got him almost all the way inside, Dean can feel the softness at the back of Sam’s throat and he can’t help his small thrust forward. Sam almost gags, but holds himself down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean can’t take his eyes off of this amazing scene, his hard cock sliding in and out of Sam’s pink lips, stretched so wide around him, taking him so deep. Sam’s doing something tricky and wicked with his tongue that makes it feel like there’s more than one of them in there, and it’s too much. Dean tries to tap the back of Sam’s head, to warn him at least, but Sam gives a little head shake and seems to suck just that little bit harder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean’s toes begin to curl up inside his boots and his hair stands up on the back of his neck as they rise up out of the seat, hovering a few inches as he thrusts into Sam’s mouth. He’s coming and Sam’s swallowing and he’s yelling and then he’s helping Sam as their hands fly on Sam’s own neglected cock. A few moments after Sam’s come all over the chair and Dean’s jeans, they begin sinking back down to earth or whatever. Dean doesn’t care, he’s still floating as far as he knows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, okay, I’ll do it. Sign me up or whatever,” Dean says in a post-coital slur.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam grins and kisses him deeply, sharing the taste with Dean until he’s wishing again that the bed was ready for them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sam, I’m glad to see you’re doing so well. I have to apologize again for the equipment malfunction that occurred when we performed your FMRI.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s…uh, that’s okay, Dr. Birney, there wasn’t any way for you to know that would happen,” Sam says, looking over to see Dean’s encouraging wink.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, let’s go over your new scans from today. Let me put them up on the screen,” Dr. Birney says, fiddling with his laptop. The screen on the wall flickers and then the images of Sam’s brain glow bright and clear. “Wait,these can’t be yours, I must have the wrong ones.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why, what’s wrong about them?” Sam asks, peering more closely at the brain scans on the screen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They’re completely clear, Sam. There’s no trace of any of the damage you were working to overcome, it’s all just gone, like it wasn’t ever there,” Dr. Birney says, a note of wonder in his voice. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He’s pretty special, I keep telling him that,” Dean says to the doctor while tugging at Sam’s arm. “Do we need to leave?” Dean bends down to whisper in Sam’s ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What could cause that to happen? Maybe it was all the treatments working the way they were supposed to?” Sam asks, stomach churning with worry about what this might mean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not how it would normally look, in your case I would have expected to see evidence of new neural pathways here and over here, but the damaged areas would be essentially unchanged,” Dr. Birney says, pointing at the screen with the tip of his pen. “Here, how about we compare your original scans to these so I can show you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The original scan images pop up, showing the many dark spots in Sam’s brain that the doctors had thought were the cause of all of his issues. Compared to the new scans, it’s plainly obvious that something miraculous has occurred.</p>
<p><br/>“Maybe he’s one of those super-healers you always hear about?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not how brain damage works unfortunately,” Dr. Birney says. “Well, Sam as you’re doing miraculously well, I’m not sure we need to keep seeing each other. We’ll just have to chalk this one up to one of God’s little mysteries and miracles.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh God’s got nothing to do with this one, doctor,” Dean says trying to hold back a too-obvious scowl.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean,” Sam says, leaving out the shut-up or hush, saying it instead with his vehemently raised eyebrows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, Dean, I’m not trying to inject religion into this, just a turn of phrase. Sam, would you allow me to use your case to present at next year’s TBI conference?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t think I’m the average subject, it doesn’t seem like what happened with me would be very useful for other people. I wouldn’t want to screw up any of the research,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Does your hesitance have anything to do with this?” Dr. Birney asks. He clicks a few keys on his laptop keyboard. The two X-rays that show the words incised in Enochian on Sam’s ribs and the deep scratches on the inside of his skull replace the brain scans.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This I’ve seen,” Sam says pointing at the x-ray of his ribs. “But what’s this?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s the inside of your skull, Sam,” Dr. Birney says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wow, check out how scratched to hell that is, really looks like something was trying to get out,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Neither of you look at all surprised, about either of these things which are both completely impossible,” Dr. Birney says, all raised eyebrows. There’s that twinkle in his eye which has always amused Dean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do you really want to know?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure he’s not going to believe it, Sammy,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you’re willing to share the story, I am more than willing to listen. I’ve been puzzling over these images and your case pretty much ever since I met you, Sam,” Dr. Birney says, leaning back in his chair.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“See, you are special, Sam,” Dean says with a chuckle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok, I’ll start with the writing on my ribs, it’s a spell written in Enochian. Our friend who is an angel put it there. It’s actually on both of us actually, it works to hide us from other angels.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh huh an angel…and when was this done?” Dr. Birney asks, the air-quotes on the word angel implied by the tone of his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A little over ten years ago,” Dean answers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And did it hurt, when this friend of yours, this angel, did that to you?” Dr. Birney asks, pointing with his pen towards the rib x-ray.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, it hurt like a bitch, but just for a couple of seconds,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure, it was a little achy for a while afterwards, but it was worth it,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The other angels, who were looking for you, this worked?” Dr. Birney asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“By the way, these are actual for-real angels that we’re talking about, and yeah, it did work,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay, angels are real, I’ve got it. So…moving on, Sam, what can you tell me about the scratches that we see inside your skull?” Dr. Birney asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have been possessed several times, two times by a demon, several times by angels. It’s possible that one of these entities left scratches behind when I was battling them for control of my mind. I also had an issue with losing my soul and when it was replaced, there was a mental wall to keep certain memories contained that I scratched at, so it might have been me somehow scratching the inside of my own skull,” Sam says, all matter-of-fact, and how could you not believe him?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My bet’s on Lucifer,” Dean says, “He’s the one you were fighting with the most for control.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Lucifer, as in The Lucifer?” Dr. Birney asks in a quiet voice, he looks pretty gob-smacked by all this conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Before you call for a double psych-consult, this guy here, he’s saved the whole damn world a few times. And we both thought the head-injuries were just part of the price he had to pay. But hey, doc, you helped him, he’s better, and for that we’re grateful,” Dean says, standing up. “C’mon, Sammy let’s get going.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wait, Dean hold on a second. Thank you, Dr. Birney, for what you did for me. It would probably be better if you could just ignore the last few minutes, okay?” Sam stands up and smiles down at the stunned doctor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dr. Birney closes the lid of his laptop and stands up slowly. “I will never forget it, Sam. Thank you for whatever it is that you did to save our world. I for one am glad that the world is still here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam’s eyes fill with tears and he goes beet red. He’s never had a civilian thank him like this, and to have a doctor believe him, all of a sudden, it’s just too much.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean puts an arm around Sam’s waist to hold him up. “You okay, Sammy?” Dean asks in a quiet voice that only Sam can hear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam nods and puts a hand out for Dr. Birney. The doctor takes it and shakes it slowly. “You’re welcome, doctor, thanks for really listening. That doesn’t happen too often.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dr. Birney smiles, “I bet it doesn’t. You guys take care of each other, huh?” He shakes Dean’s hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean holds onto the doctor’s hand for a long moment. “Doc, thank you for fixing my Sam, it means more than I can really say.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have a feeling it wasn’t just me that did all of that fixing, be well, Sam.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dr. Birney waves them off and Dean is floating on a wave of contentment on his way down the hall next to Sam who is still quiet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did we really just tell an MD all about demons and angels? Like, did that really happen?” Dean asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He seemed to want to know, I’m glad we got to tell him, it was cool that he listened,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That picture of the inside of your skull though, holy cats, that was some wild shit, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wonder if yours looks like that too from Michael being in there?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I can honestly say that I hope to never find out, I’m kinda done with hospitals, you know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do know, me too,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You want to move somewhere else?” Dean asks. It’s something he’s been thinking about lately, the itchy accelerator foot getting to him. Maybe they just need more day trips out in the car now that he can walk again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Like where? I thought you liked it here, with all your neighborhood buddies and Dan the bartender down at the Blue Light.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I just thought you might want to go check out one of our other houses or something,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m kind of attached to this one,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh…got it,” Dean says, not needing Sam to expand on that thought. It’s the house where everything changed, and where they both got what they’d always denied themselves the chance to try to make happen. Plus there’s his brother’s garden. “Gotta stick around to see that Apache Plume for yourself in the spring, huh?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dean, you know that’s not—” Sam says, raising his eyebrows and stopping on the sidewalk. They’re on the corner just before they turn onto their street. Dean stops and looks up at Sam trying to figure out if he’s upset or what.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I would rather stay, I feel kind of settled here. But if you want to move, just tell me when I need to pack,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re leaving it up to me, really?” Dean asks, surprised that Sam’s not jumping in with a preference.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I was in charge of deciding everything last time, it’s your turn for the next step, dude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean puts an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him in close. Sam’s arm comes around Dean’s shoulder and Dean starts them walking towards home again. “I choose staying, at least for a while. We can just ignore the hospital area which we know much too well, and explore out into other parts of the city.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So you don’t want to go back to the bunker?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, turns out that I like living above ground, having windows and neighbors, you know all that good stuff. And a lot less foot traffic too, you know?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Me too to all of that, but I will admit that I miss those awesome showers sometimes,” Sam says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We can try some things to fix ours to have more water pressure,” Dean offers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really? You’re going to play handyman again? It’s been awhile.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I might be out of practice, but I’m pretty sure I still have the touch,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I think I can more than agree with you on that one,” Sam laughs, pulling him into their house, kissing him breathless up against the front door once it’s closed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam lets up on the kissing and just holds Dean there in their hallway. Dean can see Sam’s face cycling through a mixture of emotions, ending up on unsure and almost worried. It seems like it’s time for Dean to say something that might help Sam be sure about all this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I want to stay here, because this is our house, Sammy. It’s the one that’s our home, really our first home as—“ Dean trails off, not able to go through with saying what he should be able to by now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“As a couple?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean blushes and hates himself for it, but he nods.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s pretty chick-flicky, Dean, even for you,” Sam says with that loose slow grin that always makes Dean’s pulse race.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This place will always be special for us. But wherever we end up, I need you to know something. Home for me, is wherever you are, Sammy, always has been.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Same here, to everything you just said, Dean. And remember, I saw all of this—you and me, being happy and growing old together right here in this place.”</p>
<p><br/>“That reminds me, now that we’re both fully mobile again, I owe you something from your vision or whatever we’re calling it now,” Dean says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You do?” Sam asks.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Besides turning old and gray with you, wasn’t there another character with us in your vision?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You really mean it?” Sam asks with all the stored-up six year old emotion of always wanting a dog of his own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, let’s go down to the SPCA tomorrow. I was looking at their website and they have—“</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sam interrupts him with a deep kiss, either for researching pet adoptions or even just remembering, but probably for okaying them finally getting a dog. After a long moment, Dean doesn’t care anymore which it is, just returns the kiss with matching fervor. As long as he lives, he’s never going to get tired of finally being able to do this whenever he feels like it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I love it too,” Sam says, answering Dean’s unstated comment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re doing it again,” Dean murmurs against Sam’s lips, only saying something because Sam had asked him to call him out for using his powers whenever he notices him doing it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, not sorry,” Sam mumbles against Dean’s lips, diving in for a deeper kiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dean doesn’t break away to call him on how all the lights have clicked off and the door lock has been engaged. There are more important things to worry about in that moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The End</em>
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